


A mad affair

by Peladonww



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peladonww/pseuds/Peladonww
Summary: After the end of the Hobbit and before the start of LoR new light is shed on the on screen events.





	1. Bad news

  
Chapter 1 Bad news

Had he arrived at Imladris but half a day later it might have been too late, as it was as he rode into the courtyard of the last Homely House not long after dawn he was welcomed by a worried Elrond whose opening words turned his world upside down.  
“Legolas, thank the Valar you are here, you must return home with all the speed you can make for I have received word that your father is gravely ill, dying perhaps, and you are needed. It was my intention to set out for Mirkwood before the noon time to offer what help I may, the best that I could do would be to bring you with me.”

For a moment Legolas had been unable to take in what had been told to him, then, as the words arranged themselves into meaning, he felt fear clutch at his heart and his eyes widened in disbelief and dismay.  
“My father dying? But that cannot be! He survived the battle without any injury that I saw, what could cause him such harm now?”  
Elrond’s expression passed from relieved to grim, his grey eyes hard as northern stone and his jaw set.  
“The letter says poison, though how and by whom is not clear. Only that they have found no antidote, that or it is still being administered though he closely watched and none but the most trusted are allowed near to him.”  
A feeling of unreality took hold of Legolas and he heard himself answer as if from a long way away.  
“When did this begin, when did he fall ill?”  
The anxiety in Elrond’s face deepened and he sighed.  
“The courier has been on the road for more half a cycle of the moon and the letter says he was stricken many days before that.”  
“So it may already be too late.”  
The words came out calmly enough but a sense of inner panic grew.

Elrond looked up at him, for he still had not dismounted, and inclined his head in reluctant agreement.  
“It may be too late for your father yes, but we can hope that it is not. Perhaps they have discovered who is responsible and stopped it, perhaps they have found an antidote or at least something that can contain the effects. I go to offer help for that reason, for I have had some experience in the foul potions of orc and other servants of Sauron, who surely must be at the root of it.”  
He gave Legolas a long straight look as he continued.  
“But even if the worst has happened and your father has succumbed you will be needed, your people will need their king.”  
Legolas stared at him in hopeless confusion for a moment and then sighed silently realising that there was no way that Elrond could know the truth of it.  
“Does your letter ask for my return?” he asked hesitantly.  
The other elf stared at him in surprise.  
“Of course, it asks me for my help if I can offer any and charges me to inform you should you arrive here and to ask for your swift return.”  
‘But for what purpose?’ Legolas found himself wondering.  
Elrond saw the uncertainty in the other and stepped forward laying a hand upon the hand that still gripped the rein.  
“You are your father’s son, his heir, Legolas, who else would they want more?”

‘Almost anyone,’ came the bitter thought, ‘no doubt if I were closer they would detect my hand in it, and I would not blame them.’  
But he said nothing of his thoughts just drew a deep breath and nodded. 

The hand upon his hand tightened momentarily and Elrond’s expression softened.  
“This is no welcome for you I know, and it must be hard to hear. Come let them take care of your horse, we will find you another for the journey, and you must take refreshment and some rest before we begin, there are still some preparations to be made so there is a little time.”  
In silent obedience he slid from his horse and followed Elrond into the house, knowing that there was much he needed to say to his host before they left and wondering if he would still be allowed to travel with them when it was known.

XXX

Elrond had turned away from him but the stiffness of his back and shoulders was all that Legolas needed to see, for he could well imagine the hard and bitter expression on the Lore masters face as he spoke.  
“This is the truth? All of the truth?”  
Legolas drew a deep, steadying breath for this conversation was proving to be more painful than even he, knowing the sum of it, had imagined it might be.  
“Yes, I have spared no one in the telling. But you know now why I asked if they wished for my return and why I am less sure than you of my welcome.”  
The other was silent for a long moment staring out towards the orchards where the first spring blossom was appearing.  
“Indeed I do,” his voice was as cold as a late spring snowfall, “a traitor threatens your father and you stand by and do nothing, and when he disarms the aggressor you threaten him in defence of her, so adding your treachery to hers. I am surprised it is poison that is killing Thranduil, for if one of my children had….” the words tailed off as the anger and sorrow checked the flow of words.  
Legolas waited in silence for his host to regain command of his voice for there was nothing that he could say in his own defence that had not already been said.

Finally Elrond spoke again, his voice calm but distant.  
“Yet the letter asks for you to be informed and for your return so I wonder how many know of this evil that you and she perpetrated?”  
He turned in a flurry of bronze coloured robe his dark hair swinging close around his face at the suddenness of the movement. His expression was as black and hard as Legolas had expected, all the usual kindliness shed and his voice was low but harsh.  
“How many were present at this travesty, this betrayal of honour and duty? Were they all elves or where there dwarves and men present too?”  
Legolas swallowed hard at the sight of Elrond’s anger, expected though it was, and licked dry lips before he replied.  
“Only my father’s guard, and but a small number of them, most of our company were still fighting on the plains and in the streets, my father had just ordered the recall be sounded in the city. Those of his guard present were behind him and maybe a score of paces away. It was a narrow passageway set on both side with high ruined walls, there was no room to walk more than two abreast and it was screened from casual sight.”  
“You chose your place of kinslaying well then.” Elrond said dryly, “but it hopefully means that few know of it.”

Legolas resisted his desire to turn his eyes away from the lore masters scalding glare and sighed deeply.  
“They may have spoken of it, I do not know.”  
Contempt entered Elrond’s expression again.  
“No, given your precipitate flight you don’t. But your father will not have allowed that, after all you say he parted with you kindly and made no move to have you taken and punished for your actions.”  
“It was as I have said and he did not. I told him I could not return and he let me go.”  
Elrond sank into his chair and reached for his glass.  
“He would have known full well that you could not return at that time and not for any bruising of your heart.”  
“I did not..” Legolas protested.  
The master of Imladris raised a hand to silence him.  
“You may not have told me but I have no difficulty in filling the gaps you have so carefully left Legolas, for I have known you since your cradle and I have never seen any sign of the villain or fool in you before this time. I can imagine only one thing that would have brought you to this madness, and even then I find it hard to reconcile your actions with the elf I thought I knew.”  
He took a deep swallow of his wine.  
“What possessed you to walk this road? When did you lose yourself? 

Legolas shook his head in sorrow.  
“I have asked myself that many times in the days that have passed since then and the truth is that I do not know. When I look back to those days, such a little span of time when it comes to it, I find myself remembering someone other than myself and I can no longer understand why I acted as I did. It is as if a sickness came upon me.”

Elrond frowned.  
“A sickness, yes, or perhaps a spell. Have you considered that, that you were placed under some form of magic, a black enchantment? Those who can wield such arts are few these days, but they are not all gone from the world.”  
“No I had not considered it, is it possible?”  
“Let us say not impossible. There are herbs and other materials that can alter even an elf’s mind and twist their will, things that can distort how the world is seen and persuade you there are enemies or sins where there are none.”  
He gave the other elf a long considering look thinking back over the years of their acquaintance then he nodded slowly,  
“Yes such things are possible and they might explain some of the strangeness of your actions.”  
Legolas sighed.  
“I cannot think of any time when I could have encountered such an enchantment. Yet I would wish to believe it to be true.”  
“So too would I, and that is a weakness in the argument, but this strange affliction of your father makes me a little more inclined to consider the possibility. The two events coming so close together and both affecting him set me to wonder if there is some connection. In such a case I would consider a servant of Sauron most likely as the source but I cannot see how that might have been achieved. “  
He paused for a moment his brown creased in thought before he continued.  
“The dwarf Thorin seemed to bear some form of grievance against your father from what you have said, might the cause lie at his door?”

Legolas thought for a moment then shook his head.  
“He is buried beneath the mountain for he died in the battle along with his closest kin so I cannot see how it may be laid at his door. The others of his party may have brought the poison but how would they have administered it? I doubt they were in my father’s company after the battle in any manner that would have allowed such an assault.”  
He frowned then shrugged.  
“Nor can I see why a dwarf would aid Sauron or his servants in this matter, there has long been ill feeling between dwarf and elf, and it is greatest between the dwarves and the Sindar, but it is not such a quarrel that a dwarf would seek the aid of so great an evil to strike another blow. Thorin was afflicted with gold fever I know but his company seemed less inclined to it and my father and dwarves fought side by side upon the plain before the mountain, I can see no reason for them to wish such action.”

Elrond inclined his head in agreement.  
“No, that would be my reading too, but it is clear that someone has acted to cause your father great harm and we may need to know more of the who, how and why if we are to help him.”  
He watched as Thranduil’s son crossed the room and stood beside the window staring out at a sight of great beauty but one that he was sure the prince of Mirkwood did not see. He frowned as he watched that prince bow his head and cover his eyes with a trembling hand. The grief was clear enough to read, and honest enough by his judging, but was it enough to absolve him of any involvement in his father’s illness given what had gone before? If he was so lost to himself as to threaten his father at a time of battle when he must have known the Sylvan armies needed their king, and for that king to be strong and decisive, then how far had he fallen from the fair and honest prince he once been?

Elrond looked away, staring across the room at the fireplace where wood crackled and flames burned brightly, and wondered how he would feel if one of his children ever had such a tale of betrayal to tell. The pain would surely be beyond bearing. He made himself a promise to hide his knowledge of this from the Woodland king if he survived, and if he could manage it, just as he would do all within his power to prevent tale of it spreading beyond these four walls. Whatever the outcome of this sorry business he would bind Legolas to silence before they left


	2. Uneasy thoughts

The party had set off not long after the appointed time and travelled swiftly through the hidden valley to join the great east road. They travelled light with a string of packhorses but no wagons, and amongst the party were several healers of considerable experience, their packs filled with the materials of their trade. Elrond thought it unlikely that they would arrive in time to offer any real assistance to the king of the wood but he would not give up hope before they even started. 

As they rode he brooded on the motives behind the current events and his thoughts brought him little pleasure, for it seemed that either great fear or great malice lay behind the action. But fear seemed unlikely for Thranduil was a good king, more than that, in many ways he was a great king, thoughtful and just and with a great calm and presence. Moreover his people were good and kindly, usually an indication of the nature of their lord, and if they were not the most welcoming of people where strangers were concerned then their daily trials could be held to explain it. No, this had more the feel of malice than fear, and considerable malice too, which raised uncomfortable questions other than who was behind it. For Thranduil was loved by his people, he was their chosen king not forced upon them, and he was also shrewd and clever, a warrior who had known great loss and hardship and had learned their lessons well. Even if someone had wished to harm him, or his realm through him, how had they found the opportunity?

Elrond’s thought kept drifting back to the Prince and his story of the matters regarding the dwarves, how much of that should he believe? Could he still be at the root of it? full Much though it grieved him to distrust one of his kin he had known since their birth he was not sure that Legolas had told him the full the truth of it. Yet even what he had said showed that he ahd defended one who sought to kill his father, had that been carried forward in some way? Many of the omissions he had guessed as he had said, but were are other things, some inconsistencies, which he found harder to fathom. Most of all was the fact that none of what had been reported to him in any way fitted with the nature and character of the Prince of Mirkwood as he had known him all his life. Legolas had always been his father’s son, astute, even tempered, brave and loyal; a little more open perhaps, more prone to merriment, but then he had not lived through the horrors of the Last Alliance nor did he bear the weight of a crown upon on his head. Well, perhaps that last was no longer true, and all must fear for the fate of the Prince and of Mirkwood if Thranduil had indeed succumbed.

As the afternoon drew on Elrond fell to thinking about the story of Dale, for he could not shake the thought that the roots of the current attack upon Thranduil must lie there. Legolas had spoken freely enough of those things he knew but what of things he did not know? How many wheels within wheel had passed him by in his blind infatuation, for it could not be called anything else? Elrond knew more of the history of their people, for good or bad, than any other living in the world and the story Legolas had told had filled him with dread, such erratic attachments were very rare amongst elves, though they were not entirely unknown, and in the past they had always led to treachery and death. As for an attachment between elf and dwarf, that was unheard of in all of the Lore, and for himself Elrond did not believe that the age had given them anything new where that was concerned. Which, to his mind, suggested that there was some other force at work behind the elf and dwarf matter too; assuming Legolas had read that correctly. No, so many things that were not right, that strained the nature of the world and of those involved, spoke of spite and malice, and in no small measure.

Which brought him back to thoughts of sorcery and black enchantments; but as Legolas had said, when and how and by whom? Yet it was not so impossible, not all such spells required dark hovels or strange incantations. Elrond looked down at his gloved hands, he possessed an artefact of magic power and yet to those who looked upon it, but who did not know, it seemed innocuous enough. Thranduil himself held his gates by an enchantment of some form, the nature of which he had never been persuaded to discuss, one of the reasons many felt a little uncomfortable in his presence. Legolas might have encountered such a spell and been unaware, particularly if the enchantment was wielded by one of his own kind, and that was a most unpleasant thought. 

Yet how much more unpleasant was the thought than treason, than one who threatened their king for no other reason than to gain their own desire? How much more unpleasant than the thought of a son who attacked his father when he defended himself from such an onslaught? No there was nothing of good in Legolas’s story as told, did the thought that another elf may have influenced such events by the use of enchantment make it any worse?

So Elrond batted the thoughts and speculations forwards and backwards as they rode on, occasionally casting a searching look at the silent elf prince who rode beside him as if the sight of him might answer his questions.

By the time dusk fell and they made camp for the first time they had reached the point where the road entered the fringes of the Misty Mountains and had exchanged the lush ease of Imladris for the stony outcrops of the foothills. Though the winter had been harsh it had given way to a kindly spring and their hope was that they would make good time though the pass and into Rhovanion, at least faster than the courier from Mirkwood had managed. The river crossing might present a delay, given that it was likely to swollen with both snowmelt and spring rains, but Elrond believed they could be at the entrance to the elven road within seven days of them setting out. How long it would take them to get from there to the elven kings halls would depend upon what they found waiting for them at the entrance to the wood.

As night came on the warmth of a gentle spring was ousted by the chill of the last breath of winter and there was no mood for song or talk around the fire. Whether it was Elrond’s dark mood, that he made no effort to hide, or the sense of anxiety and urgency that tugged at all given Thranduil's plight, none could say but there was no appetitive for song or harp within their company. They would set off again at first light and so those that were not needed to stand the first watch settled down to rest. Elrond took himself into the shadows to continue his thoughts alone leaving the others to sleep or silence.

Legolas, wrapped in his cloak beside the fire, found himself sinking into a desolate mood. His last conversation with Elrond before they set out had been no easier than their first, the insistence with which he had been sworn to secrecy bringing home to him once again the consequences of his actions that day in Dale. More than anything he wanted there to be a reason for them, and for his flight, and the thought of dark spells had taken possession of his mind. 

He had spent most of the ride this far lost in his own past searching for the time and place at which it might have been delivered, but he could think of nothing. The most obvious source of such an enchantment was the Necromancer, or Sauron as he now knew that creature to be, yet he could see no manner in which he could have encountered an agent of the lord of shadow. The darkness across the Greenwood had spread up from the south and his father had withdrawn their people north once they knew they could not hold it back. As its power grew, and the Greenwood became Mirkwood, so they had retreated north and east until they found a place where his father could build a fortified palace that he, and they, could defend. As a result it had been centuries since his people had travelled past the Mountains of Mirkwood and into the southern part of the forest, though Tauriel had often expressed the wish to do so. There had been times when she had sought to persuade him to ignore his father instructions and lead a party south but he had never agreed, much to her irritation, and his father had somehow always found out about the discussion before her arguments swayed him. But there had been no southern patrol and so it could not be there that he had been enchanted, if indeed he had.

So if he couldn’t answer the ‘where’ could he answer the ‘who’? There he made even less progress, other than the people of the lake and dwarves on their way to the Lonely Mountain there was no one he had been in sufficient contact with for it to be possible. He visited the town on the lake on his father's business from time to time but never alone and he could think of no occasion when he had met anyone, however briefly, who might have taken such advantage. He was the Prince of his people and so was rarely left alone when they visited such places, apart from his chambers there was no place he could have been accosted, and had anyone visited him in is rooms he would have been on his guard. 

Unless it was one his own.

His thoughts stopped there, as they had done ever time he had been over this road. The only possibility that he could see was that one of his own people was behind the matter, the poisoning of his father and his own enchantment, if it had ever happened. Elrond was right that the events occurring so close in time suggested something untoward might well have occurred before the battle on the plain, but what if it had not? Ahh... that was perhaps the most terrible thought of all; that he had lost himself for no other reason than himself. If that was true then could ever place trust in his thoughts and actions again? If not then what did he do? 

Terrible too that it still left someone at loose in the world who wished his father so much ill.

At that point he rose and crossed to where one the healers sat staring into the fire. Sitting down beside the other elf he placed a hand upon the healers arm to attract his attention, and then he bent his head so that his words might not be easily overheard.  
“How might my father have been poisoned?” He asked quietly. “He takes all the required precautions forced upon a king in these times and when away from the wood he eats and drinks nothing that others have not sampled first.”  
The healer, named Laurious, nodded.  
“I expected as much, even my Lord Elrond has to be cautious when away from home and your fathers risk is much greater. But I doubt that it was administered in food or drink as that would make it easy to detect in several ways.”  
“Then how?”  
“It depends upon the poison my Lord; it might be inhaled, or passed through the skin or taken in through a cut. Though I would expect a healer of the wood to have noticed it if the latter were the case.”  
Legolas frowned.  
“But none would get close enough to him to arrange those others. Galion takes good care of him for all his faults. Butler he may be, and sometimes passes for a fool, but he is not ignorant of danger and he has travelled a long hard road with the king and knows the pitfalls that must be guarded against. He would allow nothing into my father’s rooms that he had not brought. As for the rest, well the Kings guard would not allow anyone close enough for the poison to be placed against his skin. Nor, from what the letter said, would one occasion have been enough.”   
Laurious nodded.  
“That is true my Lord, from what I have heard this far the poison has been administered over time and is still being so. Terrible though the thought it is we must consider the fact that someone close to him is responsible.”  
Legolas looked towards the fire with sorrow in his face. Many horrible things had happened this last year that had hurt his father, many of them caused by those closest to him. It was no longer so unthinkable that such malice might fester so close to him. He turned back to the healer.  
“Tell me, do you think we might yet find him alive?”  
There was a moment’s pause and then the healer shrugged.  
“I cannot say. That he had survived long enough for them to write such a letter suggests that your father either has some strong defence against the agent or that it is being given in very small doses and very slowly. Most probably both.”  
“Why would the poisoner do so?”  
That brought another shrug and a frown of unpleasent thought. He spoke slowly not looking at Legolas as he replied.  
“Perhaps because they have no choice, it may be that they can only acquire the material in small amounts and at infrequent times, or they may only have access to a means of administering it in small amounts, or the opportunity they have to reach the king allows nothing more. Or…”   
He broke off and Legolas turned towards him and saw a look of deep distress upon his face.  
“Or?” he prompted. ”Do not seek to protect me, even though it is my father we speak of, tell me the worst for I must be prepared and it may help in determining who the assailant might be.”  
The healer inclined his head then turned to meet Legolas's eyes.  
“There is great hatred here I think, that or madness. Perhaps both. It is possible that whoever poisons your father does it slowly to increase the pain and distress, to him and to all around him. Including you my Lord.”

For a moment Legolas stared at him in silence then he bowed his head.  
“I thank you for your honesty.”  
Then he rose and returned to earlier place and lay for the rest of the night staring into the fire.


	3. Eagles and Forests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Journey home to Mirkwood Legolas ia reminded of old lessons and loyalties

Chapter 3

The journey towards the forest continued much as it began, the days mild and the nights cold, though the dark and chill of the evenings seemed to deepen as they followed the road into the mountains. Once past the foothills the peaks reared high and stern above the pass, their heads and shoulders still robed in the glint of snow. High above them they saw the occasional solitary eagle riding the winds, wandering far from the eyries of the north as if patrolling the mountains; though the threat of goblin or wild wolf was much lessened by their losses at the Lonely Mountain.

Elrond stood alone as they filled the waterskins at a mountain stream and watched an eagle circle high above them; he wondered if it was their party that interested it and what they knew of the matter in Mirkwood. ‘Perhaps more than I do’ he thought, for the birds loved Thranduil and his people and so were likely to be well informed, no doubt the eagles had heard much about the matter from their smaller kin. But the eagle was too high for him to signal it and it showed no sign of descending to speak with them, and so what it might or might not know remained unconfirmed. Yet from that point on Elrond remained convinced that they were being watched.

Winter had left its mark upon the mountain pass, rocks had been scattered across it at regular intervals but it was a wide road and there were few occasions where they had to ride in single file and only one where they had to dismount and lead their horses. By the time they were half way through the pass Elrond was satisfied that they would reach the entrance to the elf path through Mirkwood within the time period that he had hoped for but that was no comfort given how long it had now been since Thranduil first fell ill. He still carried the hope in his heart that the Elvenking still lived but there were times when he thought that hope absurd.

He rode beside Legolas for much of the journey, occasionally breaking the usual silence to ask of his deeds since leaving his father on Ravenhill, wishing to find in these reports some further reassurance that the prince was innocent of whatever crime was now being committed against Thranduil. Yet he found the prince’s answers unsatisfactory, unlikely even, for Legolas persisted in the story that he had been searching for a ranger called Strider amongst the Dunedain at the behest of his father. As Elrond knew there was no such person, and that Thranduil would also have known there was not, this adherence to a claim so clearly absurd, if not untrue, made him wary of trusting the king’s son. He spent many of the weary hours in the saddle reviewing what Legolas had told him before they left trying to persuade himself that Legolas would have found some more convincing a story had he been implicated in the crime.

But the number of reviews in no way improved the story being reviewed. The matter on Dale seemed worse on each reconsidering and by the time they had passed the mid point of the pass he was starting to wonder if the whole business had not been contrived as way to destroy the King of Mirkwood. Yet was Legolas so hungry for his fathers crown that he would take such an action? It did not seem to be the case and such instances were uknown amongst the Eldar.But then so was threat to parent or king. Much seemed to hand on things that he could not answer, for he could not judge the greater transgressors motives in that matter for he did not know her and it was clear that the prince was much swayed by her. Which was of itself surprising given that he had been raised from his birth to the duties of his line, why then would he abandon them in so spectacular manner unless he was under some dark spell?

So the questions, and the speculation, chased around in Elrond’s head as they rode on, but without any progress being made or new insight emerging. Sometimes he saw other members of the party cast watchful looks in the direction of Thranduil’s son, some curious and some bordering on the hostile. Kinslaying, even the suggestion of it, caused consternation to all elves and particularly to those of the Noldar line, even where there was no connection in the elf’s past or family to the dreadful actions of Feanor’s sons. To plot to kill a father and a king was the stuff of horror for their kind, and Legolas would find little mercy should that prove to be his crime.

By the time they left the pass through the mountains and turned north towards the river crossing the signs of the spring were appearing around them. As they rode through the flat lands the grass became longer and more lush and the sense of impeding sorrow that all had noticed but not spoken of was eased. This new sense of hope lasted until the road wound its way towards the river and the forest of Mirkwood loomed closer, dark and secret, on the eastern side, then shadows returned to their hearts and the hope that they might yet be of use to a living Elvenking suddenly seemed only a foolish dream. But Elrond kept up the pace and the distance to the river crossing steadily diminished, while above them the eagles came and went as if monitoring the progress of their journey.

For Legolas the sight of his home brought turmoil and bitter memories of his flight from it. On the further eastern side of the forest his father lay, either within his Halls and still clinging to life in suffering or beneath the shelter of a mighty beech. He hoped with all his heart that it was the former, and then cursed himself for wishing yet more pain upon his sire and king. It seemed to him that there was no best to be hoped for. But still he hoped, for he believed that the rift between himself and his father was not so great that he would not have felt his death, even though he did not feel his pain.

He was increasingly aware of Elrond’s watchful glances and the uncertain looks of others amongst their company,and though he carefully ignored the looks they could not be ignored. If his father had indeed succumbed how would he prove his innocence in the matter for there seemed little trust in him? Where Elrond was concerned he could expect nothing more, for the elf-lord knew the truth of the Lonely Mountain, but if others who did not know of it were willing to consider his guilt then there could be little hope for him. If his father had died and the crown was offered to him, for he could not assume it was his by right, would it offer him any protection? 

As they drew closer to the river crossing he found himself dwelling more upon the consequences of his father’s death. The passing of the crown had always seemed so distant, and his father so strong and enduring, that he had never given much thought to how he would fare should the mantle of kingship fall upon him. Now there was no escaping such a thought and he found that it filled him with fear. He had been raised as a prince but the step to king was a great one, and though his father had made sure he learned the necessary lessons the thought of putting them into practice was daunting; it would have been so even before the battle for the mountain but now it loomed as an unassailable peak in his mind. What kind of king could he ever be? He who had run from his people and responsibilities in their time of need and sorrow because he could not face the consequences of his actions. Yet if they wished it he knew that he must try to be a king whatever the cost.

XXX

They arrived at the river crossing in the late afternoon but there was enough light to see that water was high and swift flowing, swollen with the first melt waters tumbling down from the mountains. The water would be cold, too cold to think to ford it even if the levels had been lower, but Elrond had not expected to do so.  
“We will make camp for the night,” he said, “and summon the rafts men at early light. We should not have long to wait for they must be expecting us.” He cast an eye to the sky where an eagle was tracing a lazy circle on the high winds, “and I think they have been kept informed of our progress.”  
The others of the party nodded their agreement and set to establishing the camp leaving Elrond and Legolas alone.

Legolas looked up and saw the great bird above them.  
“I saw an eagle a day or two past and wondered at it being so far south, do you think they watch us then?”  
The remark earned him a sharp look and a tart reply.  
“The great eagle of the north lost kin to the battle at the mountain too and will be concerned with the well being of all their allies. Your father may be a special concern for your folk are much loved by the birds and they will plead his case.” “Then my father still lives!” Legolas said in joy.  
Elrond gave him a long considering look then shrugged slightly.  
“We might see it as a sign that your father lives it is true, or then again it may signal that his has succumbed to the malice that assails him and the Woodland Realm is in dire need of its’ new king. For the great eagle will be as concerned that the people of Mirkwood are leaderless as your father was that a mountain of treasure was unguarded, and for similar reasons.”

Legolas looked back to the circling bird and frowned.  
“The eagles fear that Mirkwood would turn to the shadow without my father? That would never happen!”  
“No, perhaps not” Elrond replied, “but all in the north and east would fear Mirkwood being taken by the soldiers of the darkness, either by attack or by stealth. Without their king the people of the wood might return once more to the scattered and orderless people they were before the coming of your father’s father. Should that happen then it would be easier for the shadow to take the forest and the route from the east to the west would be less well guarded. Surely your father has taught you of such things? I would not have considered Thranduil negligent in preparing his son for the realities of kingship!”  
Legolas smiled sadly.  
“He taught me well enough but….”  
“You forgot the lessons in your yearning.” Elrond finished for him quietly.  
“Forgot? Never, but I admit that perhaps the lines became a little blurred.”  
“Then you must redraw them sharply Legolas, for do not doubt that the darkness will return and war will ride upon its cloak. Mirkwood, like Dale and Eribor, must be strong for they will bear their share of the battle. Sauron will need to take the north and east and hold it, only then can he hope to break the south and west. Your people’s trials are not over and if your father is lost then you must be a fit king before the battle comes.”

He sent Elrond a hard look.  
“I am not a fit king now?”  
His look was returned with one of sadness.  
“Had you asked me that before I learned of the matter of the Lonely mountain I would have answered more positively, now I must be more guarded in my assessment.”  
“Because I challenged my father?”  
“Yes, that, and because of why and where and when you chose to do it.”  
“Why? You say it was wrong to intervene when my father had his sword at her throat?”  
“Had she not just threatened his life?”  
“She would not have done anything so foul!”  
“Yet you think your father would? When he could have taken her head without a word? If you think he would have harmed her, or thought it then, then you do indeed lack the judgement of a king.”  
With that the lore master turned his horse away and moved to join the others of their party leaving Legolas to watch the eagle and wonder what awaited them.

XXX

They rang the bell just after sunrise and the first ferry arrived as they were breaking camp. The speed and depth of the waters meant that only the smaller barges could be used and it took several trips for all of them to be transported safety to the other bank. Afer a brief ause to break bread and calm their unhappy mounts they took up the journey again and followed the southern loop of the road before turning north again on the final leg of the rioad that led to the eleven gate. As they moved closer to the forest the elves caught the first sense of its sadness, the distress of the trees rolling out like a cloud towards them. As they progressed up the road the cloud of sorrow grew almost palpable in its intensity and buried within it they became aware of both anger and fear. The forest not only grieved for its lord but wanted revenge upon whatever had caused its grief.

The elves cast startled looks at each other for they had not expected the forest to react so strongly when it had been imprisoned in shadow for so many centuries. It would not go well for the perpetrator of the attack on Thranduil should the trees discover their identity. In depths of the forest they sensed deer and small animals watching their progress and at one point where the wall of trees thinned three white dear appeared close to the road and watched them for a moment or two before disappearing back into the gloom.

As they rode north towards the gate Legolas pointed out where the spider nests had been and recounted some of the stories of their battles with the creatures. He saw the uneasy looks pass between the others of the party as he did so and suppressed a smile, for there had been no help from Elrond’s kin in the dark days and having discovered Sauron at Dol Gulder they must now wonder at how the Woodland Realm had endured. Perhaps they might even regret their neglect. But that was in the past and if Elrond could help his father now then Legolas at least would forgive all earlier abandonment.

As they drew closer to the entrance to elven path and were skirting the edge of the trees the clamour of the forest and its grief grew ever louder. At times it seemed to Legolas that it took over his whole mind, stealing ever other thought away from him in a swirling fog of sorrow and fury. Occasionally he saw one of the Noldar elves wince as if a particularly loud cry had caught them unawares. It was hard enough for one who was accustomed to the mind of the great Mirkwood brushing his thoughts; it must much harder for those only used to the gentler whispering of a much smaller and happier forest. On the edge of the forest the trees were tall, giants spreading a vast skeletal canopy just blushing spring green but already Legolas could see the changes in the forest, for the buds were wholesome and would open into fully formed leaves not the tattered shreds of years past, Yet despite the vigour of this new unsullied life pain remained and the branches tossed and twisted as if in a high wind as they passed. Legolas closed his eyes as they rode on reaching out to forest and promising that, one way or another, things would be well.

Thanks to those who have commented, its much appreciated and I hope you go on enjoying it. P


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The journey down the elf path, across Mirkwood west to east, took them another five days, even though Legolas knew every short cut that there was and despite the fact they stopped only when their horses needed rest. 

Here amongst the taller trees the grief was even greater, too great to be shown in wailing or tossing heads. In this part of the forest, far from the plain, the great trees stood silent as they passed, as if spring itself was paused and waiting. But the towering trees watched the riders and Legolas thought he felt a faint stirring of hope and heard the whispered words ‘save him’ repeated over and over again; a refrain that seemed to be echoed by the birds that darted from bough to bough beside them.   
“We will try,” was all he could reply.

On their first night within the forest they made camp in a great beech glade and as the darkness closed around them the whispering of the trees seemed to be joined by the thoughts of every night creature that was abroad. As the camp settled down into quiet Elrond came across to where Legolas sat and handed him a cup of wine.  
“The forest itself grieves, I had not realised how closely your father was linked to it. How is that so when he is Sindar not Sylvan?”  
Legolas shrugged.  
“I cannot say for whatever it was that bound them it happened before my birth. I have asked him in the past but he told me little that I understood, either then or now. It is in some way linked to his crowning but he has never told me how. He said that one day we would need to discuss it but that day had not yet come. I was not surprised for there are many things my father keeps to himself and that is but one. Why he is so reticent I do not know and I confess that at times I have found it irksome and wondered if he did not trust me. Now…., well now I must accept that if that were the reason it was not without foundation.”

Elrond drew a deep breath then replied with a note of sadness in his voice.  
“Indeed you must, for we both know that you failed him most seriously.”  
He saw Legolas hang his head and at that moment he had no doubt of the younger elf’s shame and regret, on impulse he reached out and put a hand upon the others shoulder.  
“But it is probable that was not his reason and that he trusted you completely. There may be many other causes for why he did not share more of his knowledge with you, for if it is bound to something sacred then there may be many prohibitions and restraints that he must observe.”  
A sudden thoughtfulness seeped across Legolas’s face and with it a hint of relief.  
“Yes, that is true and he said something of the sort whenever I asked. I confess I had not given that much thought. Though what the restrictions were he never indicated. No more than he ever explained his refusal to talk on other matters.”  
Elrond turned to look at him more fully, frowning as he did so for a slightly petulant note had entered Legolas’s voice, something he had never heard there before.  
“Other things you say? Such as? What did your father hide from you that you deemed your due to know?”  
“I do not claim that he hid anything, only that there were matters affecting me where discussion between us was rare. My mother for example, surely I had right to know about her, to be able to talk about her to him and yet if I tried he would turn away from me and the air would become chill and dark. His grief perhaps but that was no comfort.”

Legolas could hear the bitterness in his own voice and assumed that Elrond also heard it and was not of a mind to be sympathetic, for he turned away quickly as if impatient with the remark.  
“Perhaps it hurt him to talk of the matter,” was all that the lore master said quietly.  
“Perhaps, but it did not lessen the pain or the feeling of loss.”  
“Would anything have done that Legolas? Would your knowing, drawing out all the hurt and grief into the space between you, have made it anything other than what it was?”  
“I suppose not, but it might have prevented the gulf that grew between us in the days of darkness.”  
“Was the distance of his making then, for he was king as well as father and had considerations a father of lower rank might not have needed to consider? You were raised a Prince and knowing this, and in knowing it you might perhaps have trusted that he did what he believed to the best for all.” Elrond responded in a distant voice. He sighed, “For now you may lose him too, and without that gulf you left between you, and the pain of the time and the manner of your departure, unbridged.”  
“I know it, and I know also that it is why I wish so much that some factor other than my own weakness lay at the heart of the matter. Yet I still cannot see the way that it might be so.”

Elrond was silent for a moment then he looked down into the wine cup in his hand as he spoke.  
“Tell me more of this traitor whose safety so concerned you.”  
Legolas felt himself stiffen, felt the hot words rising to his tongue, but he did not rise to the taunt, if taunt it was, knowing that the elf beside him had lived too long to be unaware of the implications of his words, and that he never did anything for malice sake. If Elrond was taunting him there would be a reason behind it and if he wanted to find answers he would do well to concentrate on that. So he answered the meaning not the words.  
“She was born Sylvan and lost her family at an early age. She was found alone in the forest and my father took her into his house and raised her, in many ways she was the daughter that he did not have but perhaps desired. When she was of age he allowed her the choice of her occupation and she chose the path of the warrior, though in the early days I know that he hoped to see her train as a healer.”

Elrond looked down into his cup again.  
“Ah, so it was that one. Worse than I first thought then, for it was she that he had stood as father to who would have killed him for a fancy.” He sighed. “That she has shown herself to be beyond the pail cannot be disputed but it makes some sense of what occurred; albeit in a twisted manner. She was raised as a sister and no doubt your father thought your relationship to be such and saw nothing else before it was too late, what else could she be after all having been a child when you came to know her? Yet you looked past all you had known of her before and sought something else, sought to make her something else.”  
Legolas drew a deep breath.  
“If you say it so it sounds strange I will admit, and for most of her life a sister is what she had been. I cannot say when and how it seemed to change.”  
Elrond shook his head and took another sip of wine.  
“Yet it did not change for her, for if it had there would have been no dwarf and you and she would have bonded regardless of your father’s expectations.”  
“Yes, I had wished it different but so it was.”  
“Bitter then for your father, to see you want so badly what could not be. To know that he could not give to you that which you most clearly desired; nor could he protect you from the pain of not gaining it. To know too that if you were truly mistaken in this there would be no other for you and that the joy he had once known would never be yours. His line would end with you.” 

He frowned again.  
“Perhaps in that we might find a reason. If Thranduil died you would be king but there would never be an heir to follow you, the succession would remain unsecured. Then if you died or were lost in some other manner Mirkwood would be kingless with the consequences we discussed before.”  
Legolas considered the idea then sighed.  
“But what would it gain anyone? Why expend so much effort for so little and so uncertain a reward?”  
Elrond gave a faint smile.  
“That depends upon what lies ahead of us. The fate of the world, the triumph of light or dark is not yet decided, who can say what gain it might bring in the mists of the future. But one who could cast such a spell might have the ability to see a little way forward and so discern some gain we cannot at this moment understand.”  
Legolas felt a sudden stab of fear.  
“If that were so then it does not bode well for the future. I would rather the fault was mine alone than consider such a possibility. For it would mean that Mirkwood would be at great peril and perhaps the wider world too.”  
“What you or I wish of little account to Sauron and I doubt that in either case the future is free of strife and war.”  
“Can you not see, for you have the gift of sight do you not?”

Elrond shook his head slowly.  
“I can see some but not all, and no one possible course is ever clear as the one that will win against the other possibilities. But in most paths before us I now see darkness and grief and that is why I wonder if this illness of your fathers is the first step upon one of the possible roads towards the triumph of evil. Yet I cannot be sure that is the case.”  
“Then if we can save him we might turn the darkness aside?”  
“Perhaps, but it is more likely that if we save him some other option becomes possible upon one of the roads before us. Thranduil’s life alone cannot change the balance between light and dark yet it might, for example, affect the players summoned to the dance.”  
He frowned again.  
“That might explain some of the questions the Lady has asked be of late, for she is much concerned with the future of your father and the forest even now that Dol Gulder is cleansed.”  
“Does she know of my father’s plight?”  
“I cannot be sure for our communications have been brief over the winter and even now we deem it best to be circumspect. But she has made several enquiries of your father and how Mirkwood fared after the battle at the Lonely Mountain.”

The memory of the battle and his parting from his father rose up and held Legolas silent for he could not help but wonder how things might have been had he not fled that day. Would it have been different if the dwarf had lived? Would she have left to live with him within the mountains? Somehow Legolas could not imagine that she would, or that if she had she would have stayed. After all what had she shared with him, little enough and nothing that could weight against all she had known and loved until that time? Try as he might he could not imagine how there could have been a future for her and the dwarf in either mountain or forest. A high cost had been paid for something that could never be.

Elrond had no difficulty in reading his silence and in a return to his usual kindly manner he put his hand upon Legolas’s arm.  
“Nothing can be gained by trying to relive what is gone, unless it is to understand what is in the present. If it comes to the point when we know your father’s fate is tied to the past then you may need to haul each bitter memory into the light but until then let them sleep a while, for their power to hurt will wither the longer they remain silent.”  
With that he had risen and left Legolas to try and follow his advice.

XXX

So the weary days followed a similar pattern, long periods in the saddle followed by breaks to allow their horses rest, times at which all of the riders itched to be moving still. They pitched camp only when it was too dark for their horses to move in safety and rose as soon as the first dawn gloaming crept through the trees, never building fire or shelter, living on bread and water and protected only by their cloaks. 

Finally they reached the end of the Woodland path and entered into the approach to Thranduil's halls, the point at which the various paths through the forest met. Here, not half a mile ahead of them, two pillars of stone bearing the sign of the Woodland king were set and from this point on the only road let towards the Elvenking's fortress. If any not born of the forest were to stray from the path at this point the forest would not suffer them to survive without its Lord’s knowledge, and they would never find their way to safety unless the King decreed they should. Here the trees grew taller than anywhere else within the forest, and here they would defend their king, reaching out to bar the way should danger threaten, ripping intruders from their horses, casting them down into pits that would open up between the roots then close again, or so his father had once told him. 

Not more than a mile or so beyond the marker the wooded slopes that housed and guarded his father’s palace began rising above the tree tops and when they halted they could hear the sound of the forest river dancing its way past the gates. For the moment the sound of the river seemed to be the only sound for the trees were brooding and their silence was itself a threat.

The guard that waited for them at the end of the Woodland Road was quiet and stony faced, It had obviously been deemed inappropriate that Lord Elrond be met by soldiers in battle armour and so they wore their Woodland garb and with their faces uncovered. When they saw Legolas riding with the group a subtle shift ran through the waiting company and their expressions set in harsher lines. One of captains of the guard, an elf Legolas had known from his earliest days stepped forward and bowed slightly avoiding eye contact with his prince and instead fixing his gaze upon their visitor.  
“My Lord Elrond, I bid you welcome on our stricken kings behalf and I ask that that you follow us, for the path can be dangerous even for other elves.”

Elrond smiled in sudden relief as his greatest fear retreated.  
“Your king still lives then? I was concerned that I might be too late to be of help.” The hope echoed in his voice. The guard captain nodded briefly.  
“He lives though he suffers greatly as you will see.”   
He seemed unwilling to say more and with some reluctance turned his eyes towards Legolas.  
“My Lord, it is good that you are come.”  
Legolas inclined his head in greeting.  
“I had just arrived at Imladris when the letters came and we have made as much haste as was possible. I had feared we might be too late it and it greatly relieves my mind that we are not.”  
The guard captains expression hardened further at these words and he looked as if in another place he might have said more, but after a second’s pause he inclined his head and then turned away.  
“Follow us if you will and make sure you do not stray from the path, the shadows thin and the spiders have retreated but there are still dangers for the unwary, welcomed visitors though they may be.”

Elrond exchanged a troubled look with Legolas and then they fell in behind the guards of the Woodland Realm and started to slowly wend their way towards their object.


	5. Chapter 5

They followed the Mirkwood Company in silence down the last weary miles to the Elvenking's palace. The elves of Mirkwood formed a guard on the flanks of his party and Elrond could not dismiss the thought that it was as much to contain them as protect them. He had heard that the elves of the forest were distrustful of strangers, with good reason, but he had not expected their suspicion would extend to other elves. But as he rode on thinking of the spiders nests that Legolas had pointed out and the tales he had told of their struggles to hold back the spread of the evil, perhaps it was no so surprising. Not for the first time Elrond regretted that the White Council had forbidden any action at Dol Guldar all those seasons ago, it had not been his choice and he had spoken against it but to the elves of the wood it must have seemed a most inexplicable and callous abandonment.

He had tried to engage the captain in conversation hoping to discover a little more about what awaited them but he had received only monosyllable replies and had soon abandoned all hope of knowing more until they arrived and he could confer with the king’s healer. More worrying to him was the coldness with which these elves viewed their prince, the Noldar elves could feel the chill themselves and more than one of them had noted how the Sylvan elves, for these were surely wood elves, avoided looking in Legolas’s direction. If Thranduil died then Legolas was his heir but would they repudiate him as was their right under the terms of the Sindar elves kingship? Legolas had broken his oath of loyalty to his people when he broke faith with his father, why then should they want him as their lord? Elrond suppressed a sigh, but if they rejected him then the consequences for all might be great, and so it would fall to him and to Celeborn to convince them to do what was necessary to preserve the kingdom. 

Though, perhaps, it would be possible to persuade them to take Celeborn for their Lord if they couldn’t bear to have Thranduil’s son.

On that thought he found himself looking at the entrance to the stricken king’s halls.

The river ran dark and swift before the mouth of the cavern gates, ‘and what gates’ Elrond thought as he looked at them, much as he had done on his last visit here. If anyone had doubted that Thranduil's palace was also his fortress these gates would convince them .Few Elven Lords had held such a fortress since the first age, but then few of them had Thranduil’s need of one. Mirkwood was a dangerous place now and, as the recent battle had shown, the northern mountains were fraught with danger. Gundebad may be empty now but it could only be a matter of time before the armies of orc, warg and wild wolf began to gather there again, only the end of Sauron would see any permanent peace in the lands away from the west. He frowned to himself as he watched the head of the line cross the bridge, on the other side of the Misty Mountains it was perhaps too easy to forget how close the shadow was here.

What signal was given to open the great gates he could not see, but open they did, slowly enough for Elrond to wonder if they would ever open against once closed. Even so they had come this far for a purpose and that purpose must be fulfilled and so he followed their guard across the bridge to the dismounting point before the gates, swinging himself down from the saddle and giving his horse’s rein into the hand of a groom.  
“The stables are outside the halls except at times of war.” The guard informed them as they watched their mounts led away, “but do not fear for your horses, they will receive all the care they need and should any emergency arise they will be brought within the palace.”  
With that he gestured to Elrond to follow him through the gates.  
“Come, food and drink await you and soft beds after the long ride. I will tell those who need to know that you are here.”  
With a sideways look at Legolas, whose face showed no expression, Elrond nodded and followed the guards through the heavy doors and into the entrance hall beyond.

Behind them the doors swung closed far faster than they had opened and the sound of their closure echoed loudly through the hallway. The captain bowed to them.  
“Should you wish to leave you will need to seek assistance for these doors will not let you pass again unless the king wills it.”  
“Even now, with him at the point of death?” One of Elrond’s party asked. “Can Lord Legolas not give us leave to come and go?”  
The captain shook his head.  
“The gates obey only the king and they will do so until he departs the world for Mandos’s halls. Only then may his son command them, assuming that his father wills it so.”  
“It is true then? “Another of the Noldor asked, “that Thranduil holds his gates by means of magic? I had thought it just a tale.”  
The captain frowned at the speaker.  
“It is no tale, it is so. The king holds the gates, just as his power protects the forest around us.”  
“What power is this?” another of Elrond’s party prompted. “For such magic is rare in the world and I did not think any elf not of the first age possessed such knowledge.”  
‘Well at least he did not say any elf who had not been to Valinor’ Elrond though in a spurt of exasperation, ‘nor any other than a Noldor. It could have been worse but best to halt this discussion now’.  
With that he smiled at the captain whose expression had become a little colder.  
“You must excuse us, for your halls are so unlike our own home that they perplex us. But such questions are not our purpose here and we have travelled fast and hard, food and rest would be most welcome.”  
His party, more accustomed to his tone of voice then the guards, heard the warning and smiled their thanks, quickly pushing all other thoughts aside and following their escort into the palace.

XXX

Elrond had visited Thranduil’s fortress in the past but each time its majesty and beauty struck him anew. He looked around him at the wide halls and galleries, at the soaring paths lit with bright red torches and wondered that the Elvenking had managed so much at such a time. Even his room, simple though it was, had an air of harmony yet grandeur that would have taken much effort to achieve. Looking around him at the smooth stone walls, the carved pools through which water flowed from unseen springs, the softly filtered light further brightened by the soft red glow of a myriad lamps, it was hard to realise the how harsh the times of its construction would have been. When the people of Mirkwood had arrived here in this most eastern part of the great forest they would have been weary from their retreat before the growing shadow and nearly impoverished by the loss of what they had by necessity left behind. That their king had managed to carve this place out of the eastern hills with no help from dwarves, who would have needed to be paid, and with a people unused to working stone, was a great achievement. As he followed the guard he reflected that it spoke much of that king’s determination and perseverance, of his ability to endure and persuade others to do so. Those same traits may well be what kept him alive now when all seem to think that he should, and soon would, be dead. 

For it had soon been clear that his people both grieved for their king’s current state and feared the worst. That grief and the thoughts of his people could be the only thing holding him the world if his plight was near as serious as the letter had suggested, and he doubted that they had overstated the case. Elrond shuddered to think of think of the pain and loss that would result throughout the forest should the Elvenking die. 

As he stripped off his travel stained clothes he wondered what chance there was of averting such an outcome when the king’s healers were at such a loss that they sought outside help. They were some of the most skilled amongst elves, their knowledge honed by the years of struggle against the spreading darkness and all that went with it. There would be few wounds they would not have seen and only the rarest of poisons would have been beyond their ken. Yet they felt themselves at a loss and so fearful of the outcome that they had sent to both Imladris and Lothlorien for help, and doing so much have irked them greatly. Elrond did not know if it was Celeborn’s intention to send aid but he had no intention of waiting to find out for something told him that there was little time and he would waste none of it. Though he was weary and much in need of food and drink he was determined to seek out the most senior of the king’s attendants before he ate. He pushed away the thought that he wished to do so before Legolas was aware of his intention, and so might demand attendance, and set to wash and dress as quickly as he could.

He had asked the steward who had shown him to his room to request the chief healer, Gadilehere he believed her name to be, to attend him in his rooms so that they might be sure of privacy, for there would need to be some frank speaking if he was to know the truth of the situation. She arrived, kocking softly on the door, as he was fastening his robe.

Gadilehere was a Sindar like Thranduil and she had come across the mountains with Oropher settling into the Greenwood with great joy in the first days of his kingship. She had followed the Sylvan army to the gates of Mordor in the Last Alliance and had tended all manner of hurts and injuries inflicted by Sauron and his creatures in the fading days of the second age. Elrond remembered her well for she had been both brave and tireless often travelling out into the battleground to rescue those so gravely injured they would have died before either victory or defeat was declared. He remembered her with her clothes and hair crusted with blood, a knife in her hand as she cut away flesh poisoned by orc blades whilst all around her war was being waged, never caring whether her patient was elf, dwarf or man. Any who doubted the compassion and bravery of the people of the wood, and in Gil-Galad’s armies there had been some, had been shamed by such as she. Now the tenor of her life was less frenetic but the challenge she now faced might prove to be the greatest she had ever known.  
“Sit please,” Elrond smiled and waived her towards a chair taking one opposite. “I apologise for summoning you so abruptly but I cannot feel but time is against us.”  
“Yes, “she inclined her head in greeting and agreement and sank into the chair with a sigh. “I too, and I feared that you would not arrive in time, for if truth be told I did not expect my lord to live so long.”  
Elrond spread his hands in a gesture of confusion.  
“Yet I am not sure what help I may offer, you are both skilled and experienced, it will be something dire indeed that lies beyond your ken.”

As he spoke a strange look flashed across her face and Elrond felt a sudden coldness; he leaned forward slightly looking at her with serious eyes.  
“Or is that you fear you know what afflicts him but cannot bring yourself to accept it?”  
She ran a hand across her eyes as if to banish some vision that had suddenly risen before her.  
“Not accept my lord, believe.” Her voice was low and strained. “As you say I fear that I know what the poison might be, for poison I am sure it is, and yet I must be wrong for I would swear it is not possible.”  
“Why do think it impossible?”  
“I would rather not say now my lord for fear of misleading you. I would not have your judgement coloured by my fears, however much I know that you will strive to ignore them. The last hope is that I am wrong, that is something other than what I fear, something I have not seen before, and that you may recognise it where I do not.”  
“If you are right then you fear it hopeless? That he will die and cannot be saved?”  
“Worse than hopeless my lord and perhaps worse than death.”

Elrond sat back and stared. What could it be that she feared so much?  
“You are surprised that he still lives? Surprised that he resists whatever it is that assails him”  
“Yes. But I think that whatever the evil potion is it has been administered in small amounts not sufficient to do its deadly work with speed.”  
“Yet he has not recovered, do I assume then that you think that someone still administers it?”  
“I can see no other answer, though how it is possible I do not know. Those allowed to attend him are few in number and only of the most trusted; those who have been with him since the second age. We change the linen every day and all is washed by the laundry overseer herself and never left unattended in case someone is managing to introduce something into the water or soap used, the lamps and candles are filled and tended by those trusted to care for him and no other, and nothing is allowed into the room that is not known.”  
“Yet if it is still being administered there is a route as yet undiscovered.”  
“Yes my Lord, it must be so and still we cannot see how it is done or by whom.”  
He nodded.  
“You did not expect him to survive yet he has, but how much longer do you think he may endure?”  
“I do not know,” there was misery in her voice and face. “I will confess to you, but to no other and never beyond these walls, that I sometimes wish to end his suffering. Yet I know that he would not wish me to do so, at least not yet. Though there may come a time….”  
Her voice trailed away and she covered her face with her hands.

For a moment Elrond stared at her in silence. He had not missed her remark about worse than death though he had not asked her about it and his fears grew further. Clearly Thranduil suffered greatly but for his healer and friend of so many centuries to consider such a thing suggested that whatever she thought it was that ailed him it terrified her beyond all she had seen in the past. He could not imagine what such a thing could be but was determined that he would not even wait to eat to make some assessment of his own. He rose and reached down to her gently pulling her hands from her face and grasping them tightly  
“Come, we will go to him now and see if my fears equal yours.”  
“I pray they do not.” She said rising and returning his grip before turning towards the door.  
Elrond followed her wondering what it was he would find.

 

XXX


	6. The unthinkable

Chapter six

The route to the king’s rooms took them deeper into the fortress and yet the light here seemed brighter than in the guest quarters. At the junction of two high paths they paused for a moment and Elrond, looking to the right, saw the hall of audience with its high throne guarded by a pair of the kings own guard. The sight of them in dark armour with shielded faces reminded Elrond, that unlike his own home, the lands he now stood within were at war, and the king who lay dying was a warrior king, the only such Elven king remaining in the world. In fact with so many of the Noldar gone across the sea, and with the great Sindar strongholds long since destroyed, in many cases by the Noldar, Thranduil was king to the largest and most vigorous population of elves still in Middle Earth, for a moment he stopped, staring at the throne, and wondered what Gil-Galad’s council would have made of that. But that was long ago and they had all since found their way to the Halls of Mandos or across the sea, their burden was now carried by those who had never asked for it.

With a sigh Elrond turned away and followed Gadilehere down the other path. He fought down a sense of sudden dread and turned his mind away from the thought of what might happen should Mirkwood fall. 

To the left the high pavement led towards a door of intricate design, carved and set with many different woods, and guarded by four more of the king guard. With a sinking heart he followed Gadilehere towards the door; perhaps it was a sign that so little could be done to ease Thranduil’s sickness that she considered that what could be done was best conducted within the privacy of his own rooms.

She halted for a moment to allow him to catch up with her then turned and said something to the nearest guard in a language he could not follow. The guard did not reply but stared at Elrond with expressionless eyes for a moment before standing aside with a curt nod. As he did so the other guards also moved aside and the doors swung open; beyond them a short passage paved in polished stone led to another set of carved doors, also guarded, These guards too stepped aside and one leaned forward to open the door that Elrond assumed gave onto Thranduil’s rooms. For a moment the master of Imladris wondered if these precautions were because of the king’s state of health or if this was how it always was, but then he knew of at least four attempts on the Elvenkings life by eastern mercenaries and so it might be usual. What must be like for an elf to have to live so closely guarded?

With a muttered “come” Gadilehere led the way through the doors and into a hallway from which two sets of stairs descended, one curving right the other left. They descended the set that curved towards the left and finally entered into the room where the king lay. 

The room was warm but airy and from the corner came the soft sound of music. Elrond looked around him slowly. Two elves sat upon a low couch, both healers by their dress and one of them had a small lyre in her hand this was the source of the music, catching his look Gadilehere shrugged.  
“The king loves music and we hope it gives him solace.”  
He smiled and nodded, then waited in patience looking around him as Gadilehere spoke softly to the two attendants. Eventually they nodded and rose and withdrew up the staircase. 

It was a beautiful room Elrond noted, a high ceiling carved as to represent the canopy of a great beech tree, with two walls panelled in carved wood, another lined with books, and the final wall a polished stone set with crystals down which water cascaded to flow through a deep pool before running out and down through the floor to some other level. Without the music the sound of water was clearly heard, constant and gentle and was joined by the crackle of burning wood from the hearth set into one of the wood lined walls. The scent of pine was in the air and that of the resin from another wood that Elrond could not place but that had soothing warmth to it. In each corner of the room braziers also burned wood and herbs and the scent of these he did recognise and he cast a startled glance at his companion.  
“Yes my lord it is as you think, I do all that I can to nourish his spirit for his trials are great and he is not beyond knowing fear.”  
Elrond nodded his expression sombre the feeling of dread increasing a little more.

At the far end of the room a wide couch was set on a raised dais, like the panelling it was carved and inlaid with many woods and the light around it seemed to come from an unseen shaft for it had the quality of daylight, soft but clear. To one side there was a table bearing two flagons, a glass bowl and a collection of vials and to the other a tall column on which stood an arrangement of spring boughs and flowers. Elrond smiled slightly as he looked around him, all that could be done for the king’s comfort was being done, as if to remind him of the love his realm bore him and the beauty of the world he was in danger of leaving. Yet so far it had been to no avail. With a sigh he stepped closer to the dais and looked towards Gadilehere for permission to approach further, at her nod he stepped up the shallow steps and approached the ailing king.

King Thranduil lay on a cloth that looked to be of spring leaves but was worked from silk and fine lace. He was dressed in a deep green robe, open at the throat, and lay on his back and with his head and shoulders raised slightly upon a bank of pillows. His arms were stretched loosely across the fine white linen sheet that covered him to his waist and his long pale gold hair was combed and spread across the supporting pillows, at a distance he might have seemed to be simply sleeping. Except that elves do not sleep with their eyes closed and Thranduil’s were closed, the soft skin of his eyes lids almost translucent and shaded blue as if with great weariness. His face seemed as immobile as if carven from stone, as fair as ever but with the hard pull of pain added. It was clear that he had lost some weight but from what Elrond could see the muscle remained firm enough and there was no sign of any rupture to the skin that might indicate a cause for his illness.

As Elrond moved closer to the king he could see that his flesh was more than usually pale, it looked almost bloodless, the whiteness of his brow throwing the pale gold hair and dark fringe of lashes and brows into stark relief. Bruise like shadows were etched beneath his eyes and more such shadows wrapped the pulse points on his throat and wrists. But these were not the most telling marks and Elrond’s eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the golden threads that spread like a blooming flower across most of the kings exposed flesh, like the crazing on an ancient statue. His mind was drawn back in a moment to a book, a very ancient book, one of the very few the remained in the world from the time of the War of Wrath and the fall and binding of Morgoth. A book he had been entrusted with after the last alliance and that remained locked in his secret depository, a place where only he could go. A book that was best locked away for it contained some very dangerous and terrible stories and arcane lore. It had been a long time since he had read from it, for in truth it caused him much fear even with the ring upon his finger, but there were some things that he would never forget even though they had been read just once. 

But it could not be so! Surely it could not be so! 

In silent horror he reached out a hesitant finger to touch one of the marks feeling the texture of it, grimacing as it felt it squirm as he did so. With a frown he pushed down on the mark feeling it break beneath his touch then he pulled his hand back and watched in revulsion and despair as the broken thread reformed, pulsing slightly as it did so. 

It was just as he had read, but how could that be the case?

He sighed and laid his hand upon the king’s chest feeling the faint movement which, with the harsh rattle of his breathing, was the only sign to a casual observer that he still lived. Thranduil did not stir at his touch or at his following words.  
“He sleeps naturally?” Elrond asked hopefully, for if he did so it might mean that there was another explanation for this sickness other than the unthinkable. But his hope quickly was dashed.  
“No my lord, without aid he sleeps not at all for the pain is too great, and the poison seems to prevent him doing so even when we ease the pain or when he is exhausted. Yet even when awake it seems that he barely knows where he is and at the worst of times who he is. It distresses him greatly and all who see it, though he bears it well and with little complaint. Though at times, both waking and sleeping, he cries out as he is being burned in dragon fire. I would have him sleep as much as can be managed, but as you know there are limits beyond which the dangers of the treatment are as great as the injury.”  
Elrond nodded soberly, he knew the dilemma well. 

She hung her head and her voice was soft and thin with her distress.  
“He fears sleep too. He does not say so but I think he is concerned that whilst he sleeps the sickness may advance and…..”  
She broke off and turned away.  
“So when he has endured too long we force sleep upon him for I fear that the weariness will allow the….sickness to progress as much as sleep may.”  
Elrond looked at her in sad sympathy for a moment, for now he knew what she feared and what the king would fear if he thought the same. It was an intolerable situation. 

If they were right.

He turned back to the bed and folded the white sheet back a little further then eased the robe away from the king’s shoulders. Now he could see denser clusters of the golden threads curling around his neck and fanning up into his hair and down his back, and in places small red threads that stretched out from the golden marks in all directions. With a sigh he picked up one of the limp hands and inspected it, seeing the blueing of the finger nails and the tracery of more golden coloured spines running up the forearm. Carefully he laid Thranduil’s arm down again and with gentle finger edged the robe open to allow him to inspect the area around the heart where the flesh was so crazed with the threads that the skin looked yellow. After a moment of staring at them he eased the sleeping king’s robe back into position and sighed again, for it was as the book described it.  
“He has more of these marks?”  
She nodded wearily.  
“Yes my lord. There is no part of his body that is not affected, though they cluster more densely around his heart and head.”  
“They continue to spread?”  
“Yes, but…. “ she paused and frowned, “In the early days, after he first fell ill, they spread with great speed but now it happens more slowly though there is no doubt that more of them are appearing and none are so far gone. That is one of the things that leads me to believe the doses are smaller than the first one given but that they continue.”  
Elrond nodded.  
“It seems likely. Perhaps it was assumed that the first dose would be all that was required. When it was not…….Whoever is responsible may not have easy access to a sufficient supply, or it may be that the means of its delivery limits how much can be given at a time.”

She looked at him with misery in her face.  
“My lord can you help? Is there something you know that might assist us to save our king?”  
He stared back at her for a long moment then shook his head sadly.  
“No, there is nothing that I can do that you have not done.”  
“And the cause of his sickness my Lord do you know what the poison is?”  
There was great fear in her voice and Elrond was sure that his diagnosis would come as no surprise to her.  
“I think I might, just as you think you might. It is my belief that our thoughts are in agreement but if I am correct in that surmise then my reaction is as yours. I cannot believe it to be possible and hope with all my heart that I am wrong. But like you my greatest fear is that I am not wrong.”

She drew a deep breath, squaring her shoulders obviously preparing herself to hear the worst.  
“What do you think it to be?”  
Elrond cast a glance at the figure on the bed apparently unaware, but who could say that was the case, certainly if it really was the foul thing they feared? He laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder and spoke softly.  
“Let us go somewhere else, I would not wish to disturb him and you must tell me more of the symptoms before I will commit myself to an opinion.”  
With a sigh she nodded and led him from the room.

Ten minutes later they were seated once again in the guest room allocated to Elrond. The fire had been lit and wine was on a table beside the bed, the warm glow of torches lit every corner of a very comfortable room. But for the moment Elrond’s mind was somewhere else; as he stared into the fire his mind was wandering in time, back to a time of great darkness, a time of battle and loss when great evil walked abroad. A time when the book was written, long before it was given to him. He pushed the memories away, for there was no point in dwelling on them, he did not think that his memory was failing him and as such he had a part of the answer however much he disliked it. Though he did not think it was all of the answer, had it been so then Thranduil would already be gone and there would be nothing they could do to bring him back. So some chance remained.

The king’s healer had detailed all the other symptoms as they had walked back and now she was impatient for an answer.  
“My Lord. You have seen what I have seen, and I have told you all that I know. Tell me then, what do you think ails the king? I think you know what I fear and I have seen in your eyes the same fear. So tell me what do you think the poison to be?”

Elrond stared at her for a long moment without replying, strange how his mouth did not want to frame the words, even though he knew that doing so would change nothing. Yet he found he didn’t even wish to think them. But he could not deny her the answer she sought and so say it he must.  
“I believe that we fear the same thing. But I know no more than you how such a thing is possible. For I did not think any of that terrible creation remained within the world.”  
"Will youi name it then for I find I cannot."  
Elrond sighed.  
"I understand your feelings for I feel the same reluctance and yet it changes nothing named or not. So I will say it though the words burn my mouth with their bitterness. I think that we agree that Thranduil is being poitoned in the most terrible of ways, and that the poison is Angmar's Bane." 

 

XXXX


	7. chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gadilehere left the Lord of Imladris to his thoughts feeling some small easing of her own distress. Knowing that though her fears were confirmed she was no longer alone with them brought the only comfort she could expect. There was also considerable relief that Lord Elrond had agreed to tell both the prince and the council the state of matters, something she had not as yet felt herself able to do. 

Yet her last remaining hope was also removed and as she walked back to the king’s room, reflecting on their recent conversation, her only solace was that there had been no error on her part, no oversight that had left the king suffering. They agreed that the source of the king’s injury was almost certainly Angmars Bane, though neither had ever seen it before and for good reason for it had passed into legend long ago. How could any of that evil substance remain in the world, for surely all traces of it had been destroyed when the witch king was defeated and his fortress destroyed? Yet there was no other poison known to them that produced such effects, and surely another poison would have killed by now. But the purpose of Angmars Bane was not to kill as such, which might well explain why the king still lived, that and likelihood that it whatever had been administered was not the pure substance. If it had been that… a shiver ran through her at the thought.

She walked on lost in her musings. Nor were they any closer to knowing how it was being administered, though they both agreed that the initial dose had not been sufficient to achieve its terrible objective and therefore it must be the case that smaller doses continued. But as no one knew what it looked like, or how much was involved, being certain was hard. Tomorrow they would both conduct an extensive examination of both the king and his rooms to see what further light they might shine upon the matter but it was clear that neither of them had much hope of finding the source. Yet they must try, for unless they did the king would remain trapped in his current torment until the poison finally overwhelmed him.

Gadilehere was a gentle spirit but as she recalled the weeks of the kings sickness she felt that she could indeed take up sword against the powers that created this evil and she knew that she would feel little compassion for the agent behind this attack upon the king’s life, whoever that might be. 

There was the next hurdle who might hit be? The king had no known enemies within his Realm for he was much loved and respected, but even in the fairest apple a worm might dwell unseen for a while, where then might be the worm? There was much gossip on the matter and several names had been mentioned as possible assailants, amongst them that of the kings son, but while there was so little certainty she was unwilling to engage in such speculation. Though she had to admit that in the privacy of her own mind there were but two candidates for the role of would be murderer, and she could not fathom how either could have managed it.

Another trial awaited her when she reached the king’s quarters for his son was at the door demanding entrance. She had hoped that he would wait until he was rested and fed but it seemed that was not to be the case. It was clear from his angry look that he had met with refusal and was preparing to make a noisy statement of his rights. She sighed for this was one more difficulty for those close to the king, what to do about his son. 

Rumours had been circulating since the day of the battle at Erebor when he had been seen to leave the battlefield alone, and some of them were very ugly. At first the death of Bolg had explained his presence upon the watch post but as the battle ended and he was nowhere to be found other stories began to emerge, rumours of things almost unheard of in elven life and never amongst the grey elves of the sylvan elves. Not heard of even amongst the Older since the second age. Amongst these rumours was talk of collusion at murder, at patricide by another name. She had dismissed them, like most close to the king but now, seeing the stormy look on Leola’s face, the dark rumours thrust themselves to the forefront of her mind and she had to struggle to push them away.

Yet after a moment she gained control of her thoughts and spoke gently to the prince whose impassioned words and behaviour seemed to become more frantic with every second that passed.  
“My Lord. I had not looked to see you at your father’s room so soon.” She said softly as she came and stood at his shoulder.  
He turned to face her and the anger in him was clear to see.  
”So soon! I would have been here hard upon my arrival had I not been most seriously discouraged. How is that I must wait for others to escort me to him when he is my father not only my king? Why must I wait for company when I have spent many hours over centuries in private conversation with him? Cannot I be trust with his safety or is that you fear my response to what waits beyond these doors?”  
Seeing the sorrow and confusion in her face he drew a deep and steadying breath.  
“But I will have no more delay I will see him now and only force will stop me.”  
She placed a gentle hard upon his arm.  
“None would seek to stop you, I do not know why you were discouraged from coming here upon your arrival but there may be many reasons. As for this moment well the guards only wish to ensure that your father is settled and that there are those present who can best answer your questions, for there is no doubt that you will have them.”  
She nodded to the guards and one reached to open the door.  
“Come with me then, your father sleeps still and I hope he will do so until dawn but you may at least satisfy yourself that he is being suitably cared for. Though I have charged Lord Elrond with explaining his condition to your for his experience in this matter is greater than mine and he may answer you more fully. On that I ask your patience. But come.”  
With that she ushered the prince before her and followed him into the king’s quarters.

The room was as it had been when she brought Elrond here and the soft sound of the lyre could again be heard above the gentle whisper of moving water and the his and crackle of the fire; the king remained silent, eyes closed and as still as if he were made of stone. She both felt and heard the prince draw a deep breath before he shook off her hand and approached his father, the expression on his face fixed and unreadable. For a moment he stood in silent stillness looking down upon his sire’s unmoving and silent form, and then the shuttered expression was broken by a wave of distress that drove way the blank wariness in his eyes away. The fixed calm of a moment before was replaced by a storm of grief, his stiff posture collapsing as he fell upon his knees reaching out to grasp the still hand upon the sheet, his head falling forward to lie against the edge of his fathers couch.

For a little while she stood back saying and doing nothing but eventually she stepped up to the bed and once again laid a hand upon his shoulder. He raised his head and she could see that his face was wet and his blue eyes were drowned in tears.   
“I had hoped it was not true,” he whispered, “that somehow the letter had overstated matters or that you would have found some cure before we arrived, Since the moment I first heard the news I have been trying to pretend to myself that all would be well, that we would arrive and Master Elrond would pronounce upon the matter and my father would be on the road to recovery within a sunset or two. But now I see him lying here, now I see the look in your face, I know this cannot be. Is there any hope at all? For believe me when I say that I do not want to wear his crown and I would give anything to be able to take back the bitter words I hurled at him before I left. I grieve for everyday that I have been away when I could have been home where I might have prevented this assault upon him.”  
She shook her head sadly.  
“Do not berate yourself on that score for I doubt you could have prevented it my Lord, for though we do not know how it was achieved there was no time when he was alone when he should have been guarded. Your father is very far from being a fool and he knows better than to risk his safety unnecessarily. However the would be assassin got passed his guard it must have been by some means that neither he nor those with him saw as in anyway unusual or sinister, that being so it is unlikely that you would have seen it any differently.”

“Perhaps.” The word was a sigh, and he looked back towards his father face. “Yet had I been here I might have helped find the culprit, and at the least I might have supported him as the illness took hold. As it was I have been yet another bitterness for him to bear when his very life is at stake.”  
He gripped the limp hand tightly.  
“If he lives will he be able to forgive me? But if not forgiving me could save his life then I would most gladly bear his eternal hostility and coldness and consider myself fortunate.”  
“My Lord!” She protested. “Never would he ask such things of you, what just cause have you to think he might?”  
He gave a sad smile and an emphatic shake of his head.  
“None, none. He has behaved with great forbearance; I would not have you think I consider it otherwise.”  
He sighed and looked up at her.  
“I expect my conduct is well known amongst our people and there can be none of them who condemn it more than I who committed the sins. My behaviour was unworthy and I find no excuse for it in my recall of it. That my father spoke kindly to me before I left is my only solace for, unbearable as the current situation is, how much worse would it be had we parted before that.”

For a moment he was silent staring at his father's face as if committing it to memory. Finally he spoke again, and his voice was hoarse and lacking its usual timbre, as if he had been crying for many days.  
“Does he hear us? If I tell him now of my sorrow and regret, share all the thoughts and words I had planned, will he know it? Does he sleep or is it something more distant than that?”  
She sighed.  
“He sleeps my Lord but not naturally and no he would not hear you. Tomorrow he will wake and there may be a time when you can speak to him and he will know what you say. Though it would be best if you left such conversations for when he is recovered.”  
“He will be recovered then?”  
There was sudden hope in his eyes and eagerness in his voice.  
“All hope is not yet lost? It seemed as if there was none and he would only sink deeper and further from us.”  
She shook her head.  
“He has not yet succumbed though we think his assailant expected that he would have done so, and it seems that the later doses, and we are sure there have been some, may be smaller. Lord Elrond will explain more for he has greater knowledge than I of what is suspected. But the king is strong and determined and if we can but prevent any further administration we might yet manage to find a way to help him, though I cannot promise that is the case. We have already sent out messengers to find Mithrandier who may find a way if we can stem the poison.”   
“Not so much hope then,” he said sadly.  
With that he bowed his golden head upon his already outstretched arm, and reached out his other to grip his fathers hand with both of his.

Gadilehere watched him in silence for a moment seeing the slight tremors of grief that shook his shoulders and his hands. It seemed impossible to her that the Prince she had known could falsely portray such sorrow or dissemble such regret and any slight doubts she had earlier felt were melted. After a minute or two of silence, with lute, fire and water the only sounds she took her decision and kneeling down beside him she leaned close.  
“My Lord, is there any that you can think of who might be guilty of this crime?”  
She saw the tremors quicken and a tension enter the line of his shoulders before he raised his head.  
“I gave it much thought on the journey here and in truth there is none I could point to and say, ' see they would do this'. There have been attempts on his life before but always by assassins with no gain in mind but money and in the pay of lordlings from the further east. But there have been none of those since the time the dragon came. Nor have any taken this form, poison yes, but never of this slow kind.”  
He shook his head.  
“But those aside there is none that seem to gain by such an act. Try as I will I came think of only two names where any possibility must be admitted and yet in those cases I cannot see how it would be done even if the wish to do so was strong enough to overcome all natural reluctance. "  
She nodded.  
“It is the same for all of us, and I suspect the names we think of are the same. But we will not speak of it here, perhaps when you know the sum of it some other possibility might occur to you.”  
With that she rose to her feet.  
“Come there is nothing you can do for him before he wakes and that will not be before dawn.”   
“I would rather stay. May I not do so? Even though he does not know I am here, I would be close to him.”  
“ I know you would but truly it is better that you eat, speak to Lord Elrond of the matter and then rest if you can, for you will need some time to consider the matter before we speak again.”

He rose to his feet and looked down into her eyes.  
“Gadilehere you stoke the fear within my heart, is the cause so terrible then that it is worse than what I have already seen, worse than what I fear? Tell me that this is not so and that I have already thought and seen the worst there is.”  
She looked away unable to bear the pleading in his eyes.  
“Forgive my lord, but I find I lack the strength to tell you the sum of it. Go now and dine with Lord Elrond for he knows it all and more than I do. When you have done that if you wish to talk to me then call for me and I will come.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Legolas had barely managed to contain his impatience to have his questions answered long enough to wash and change and reach the small dining room within the royal apartments and it was to his considerable frustration that the room was empty when he arrived. Galion had set the table with fewer places than he had expected but he paid the fact little attention. He took a chair beside the fire and waited with all the appearance of patient unconcern whilst inside him the anxiety mounted.

“Where are our guests?” he asked Galion as he entered with a flagon of wine.  
“Most are in their allotted quarters my Lord and Lord Elrond has sent word that they will eat there, only two of his party will join you here, Telaron and Uroin I believe they are called, though it was made clear to him that all are welcome.”  
Legolas suppressed a smile knowing full well why Elrond had ordered it so. He had not missed the sly remarks and gentle taunts aimed at him on the journey; he had let them pass as unimportant given the situation. Some small part of him had registered surprise that they had chattered so freely on such a journey, just as that part had noted Elrond’s discomfort at many of their sallies. Though he would not have risen to them even if his mind had not been fully occupied with his fears for his father, for that father had taught him well and he knew how to discipline his tongue in the company of those not of his people.   
“And Lord Elrond?” he asked.  
“I believe he has been in conversation with the healers but is now taking the air with his guards my Lord.”  
Legolas nodded and accepted a glass of wine. Ferren was no doubt escorting them, something he would once have done on his father’s behalf but none would have expected him to be anywhere but at his father’s side tonight. Which is where he wanted to be; it was only the chance of learning more from Elrond that had brought him here. He drifted further into his thoughts, frowning at the fire as if all the answers might be read there.

So he continued to sit in silent contemplation until a hand upon his shoulder brought him out of his absraction and he looked up to see Elrond standing beside him. Without further thought or pause he sprang to his feet and started upon his interrogation, but all the answer he had received to his opening question was a slight shake of the elf lord’s dark head. He had drawn breath to protest but Elrond’s eyes had flickered briefly to those of his retinue that had joined them and then to the elf that was serving them. It was clear that whatever he had to say he did not wish to say it in this company, Legolas felt a further tightening of the bowstring of tension within him but he had nodded and swallowed his hasty words and relapsed once more into silence.

The others seemed not to notice the exchange, or his silence, for they were deep in conversation with Ferren about the sights they had just seen from one of the hidden balconies and were much surprised that the Elvenkings Halls were so unlike what they had heard of goblin cities. The Halls of the Woodland Realm were, so they continued, so much fairer than they had supposed possible given that they were underground. Of course they had all heard of Menegroth but had never met anyone who had been there, they chattered, and so they had nothing to compare them to. If Legolas had been at all aware of the wider company he would have noticed the tightening of Ferren’s jaw, the carefully blank looks of his father’s advisors and the shadow of a deep anger that flitted across Elrond’s face for a moment. As it was he could only wonder how much longer it must be before they could eat and before he could ask the questions burning on the tip of his tongue. 

The company had moved on to discuss something Legolas had no knowledge of and he found his mind being pulled away from his own thoughts as he listened. For as night had fallen the glow from many small lamps had appeared around the palace door and throughout the glades, one of Elrond’s party had asked what they were.  
“They are shrines my Lord, places of prayer, meditation and entreaty.” Ferren answered.   
He drew them to the balcony to the side of this dining room hidden until he moved them by a pair of long heavy curtains. Legolas followed and stared out in wonder at the glowing lights below them, some on the ground and some high in the trees like the spirit lights of many birds. The night was still and the lamps burned with barely a flicker and yet the sense of yearning and grief seemed to eddy up like a cold wind from the tree tops.

“That one,” Ferren pointed to a cluster of lamps around a large beech tree that stood at the edge of the river, “is the shrine set up by the king’s guard, for that is the king’s tree.”  
“These are not always here then?” The one called Uroin asked. “These shrines have been set up for the king?”  
Legolas felt Elrond shift beside him and out of the corner of his eyes saw the other’s momentary wince no doubt in response to the surprise in the speakers tone.  
“Of course they are for the King my lord.” Ferren had said quietly, “What else would they be for? Our people know their king is ill and seek all the help they can for him from worldly and other worldly sources. The people grieve as does the forest and all that lives within it.”  
“Thranduil is much loved by his people.” Elrond said repressively with a warning look at the two elves of his retinue, “they will seek to help him all they can. Even if all they can do is to ease a little of his pain.”  
The others stared out at the large number of the small lamps for a moment and the Noldar elves exchanged a look of some surprise.  
“Are there others?” Urion asked.  
Ferren nodded.  
“In the villages and hamlets yes, many have not left for summer dwelling yet but amongst those who have the same is practiced so the guards tell me.”  
That brought yet more questions.  
“Do you not all live here in Thranduil’s Halls then?”  
Thranduil’s counsellors exchanged a wry look.  
“No, my Lord.” Elaroth said mildly, “Only when there is cause. In the winter some move here from beside the rivers for floods are common, or when the weather is more than usually bad, yet others come simply to feast and spend time with friends. Of course many come when the danger from spider or wild wolf increases, though there has been less need recently. Of course there are some who reside here on a more permanent basis, those such as myself, with responsibility to the Realm and the king. But for much of the time our people live in the forest or the lands to the east, for we do much trading with the men of the Lake.”   
That brought more looks of surprise from the visitors and their lord suppressed a wry smile, it seemed that they were learning much they had not realised they needed to learn. He didn’t need any special foresight to see that many questions would be posed to him as soon as the opportunity was offered.

Questions, that brought him back to the real business of the visit and he looked across at Thranduil’s son in concern for the prince had said little since that initial warning and seemed sunk into a world of his own, a dark place by the shadows in his eyes. He had heard that the prince had visited his father, and knew that a difficult conversation must be had between them before the evening darkened to night. That had been one reason for adding to the dinner party for he did not wish that conversation to be held anywhere it might be overheard. But the hint of despair in the blue eyes tugged at his heart, for there could be no doubt that the prince feared the worst whilst still hoping for something more. 

Ferren was now leading the visitors back to the table; as soon as the matter of eating was over Elrond decided that he would take Legolas to his own room and break the news to him there.

XXX

The meal was good; the wine far better than anything found at Imaldris, but it was a sombre affair, Legolas struggled to eat anything and Elrond found that he too had little appetite. It was a small party gathered at one end of a large table, and the king’s general factotum, if he recalled it correctly, served them himself. It was clear that he had hoped to overhear some good news, as it was he would have found no comfort in their conversation. 

The others continued to talk of general matters as they made their way through the first course but Elrond turned his attention to the silent prince. Though caution must prevail there were some things that could be said even in this company. He spoke gently with a faint sympathetic smile.  
“You have been to see your father I expect?”  
Legolas raised his eyes from his dish and the misery in them was easy to read.  
“I have, and it was enough to banish any false hope I might have harboured.” His voice was soft and sounded as if tears were not far from him. ”My thoughts, my hopes, on the road here now seem foolish, it is clear that a serious attempt is being made upon my father’s life, and a cruel one for it seems as if his death is intended to be slow.”  
“Yes it seemed so to me too, as you know I have also visited him. The case is puzzling but I do not doubt that poison is at the root of it. But we must discover what it is and how it being administered, for I agree with his healers that the assault upon him continues.”  
Legolas opened his mouth to speak but received another warning look; clearly Elrond would speak in generalities but did not wish to discuss the details any further in the present company. It seemed too that he did not want any suspicion that anything more than usual malicious was afoot. The realisation of that drove what little appetite Legolas had had from him, for what could be the reason for that?  
“The king is truly ill then? There is no doubt that his life is at stake?”   
Telaron asked.  
Legolas saw the sudden stiffening in Galion’s shoulders and knew that the following words would be closely marked and all around the palace by the time the next course was served.

“Oh there is no doubt of that,” Elrond replied. ”Someone wants the King of Mirkwood destroyed and we can only guess at their motives.”  
Telaron frowned at the answer.  
“Why should any wish him such ill?”   
Elrond shook his head.  
“I cannot say; he is a good king to his people, a generous and kindly neighbour and fair in his trade and other dealings with those around him. More than that he fought the evil in the second age and paid a high price, just as he did in the more recent battle at the lonely mountain.”  
He was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look upon his face.  
“Yet I think it may be there that we need to look for our answer as to why he has been attacked in this way and at this time.”  
He cast a sideways look at Legolas.  
“There are after all other strangeness around the matter and the events leading up to the battle of the five armies as I believe it is now called.”  
“Strange events?” Uroin questioned.  
“Indeed there are.” Elrond settled back in chair and took a sip of the very good wine in his glass. “Setting aside the matter of why Thorin chose to risk himself and people of the lake in such a manner, for I believe that the answer to that lies with Mithrandir, we are still left with many things that are odd and which cannot be laid at his door.”  
“Such as what my lord?” Elaroth asked. “I know that many things vexed the king about the matter and I would wish to know if your concerns are as his.”  
Elrond nodded.  
“I expect they are for we both of us have known more of battle than we would wish. Well then,” he raised a hand and began ticking things off on his flingers. “Questions around how the movement of the earth worms was not noted by the dwarves within the mountain, others about how the orc from Gundebad reached the battle so quickly. The third concerns the risen dead, for is it not strange that Asog was seen to be present when he was known to be dead, killed by Thorin’s grandfather in the battle at Moria and no word of him since. It is curious too how the forces of the shadow ascended Ravehnhill without being observed by either men or dwarves, for they must have been there before the battle began, and yet how might that be the case? There are otherstoo that would take longer to list but those happenings alone mark out the event as something to be considered suspicious.”

The room was silent for a moment then Elaroth nodded.  
“Yes those were some of the king’s concerns, there were others but they apply only to our own people and I doubt you have knowledge of them and they are not of wider concern.”  
Elrond looked up from his contemplation of his glass and caught the counsellors eye, there was a warning there and he smiled slightly for he could not blame the elf lord for having doubts about his discretion given the showing his people had made so far.  
“Indeed that is probable.” He said mildly. “In this strangeness we might find some clue to how and why the king has been attacked in such a manner.”  
“Clue my Lord?” Ferren asked.  
“Indeed, for none of these things would be easy to achieve by the usual means. No fast horse would have brought Asog back from the dead, nor can a dragon be held to account for him being on Ravenhill. Something more….malign must be in play.”

“Malign? You think Sauron behind this attack upon King Thranduil?” Ferren asked softly.  
The thought hung heavy on the air for a moment before Elrond shrugged slightly.  
“Perhaps, though whether it was at his instruction or by those who simply seek to advance his objectives I cannot say.”  
“Who then do you think to be the agent in it, men or dwarves?” Uroin asked. “For surely it could not be an elf. Not even the cursed sons of Feanor would have served the darkness in such a way.” He turned to look at Legolas. ”Have you anything to say on the matter my Lord?”  
Legolas shook his head.  
“I am as much confused as you. I cannot see why either the men of the lake or Dale would do such a thing or how they would accomplish it if they wished to. As for Dain, who is I believe now king under the mountain, I cannot see what he would have to gain by such an attack, for I would think he wanted Mirkwood strong in his own interest. Other than that I can think of none who would, or even, could, mount such an assult.”  
Ferren nodded.  
“In that I agree. The king knew the dangers well, for there have been attacks upon him before by those who thought to profit by his death.”  
Elrond felt the shiver of shock that ran threw the two of his party but said nothing.  
“Only in battle did he throw caution aside and there he was fearless often going before his soldiers to protect the safety of those on foot.” Ferren continued. “But away from the battlefield he did not risk his life wantonly, knowing the cost to his people if he should fall. He has been particularly careful of late for with the Prince so far away ….” He let the words tail off.  
Elrond nodded.  
“Yet whoever it was they found a way to get past his guard, to get close enough to him to be able to administer what ever the poison is. But there is nothing more than we can say on that as yet. Tomorrow I will visit the king with his healers and we will review what is known and what else we might do to get the king back to good health.” 

The others took his hint and as the next course was laid before them the conversation turned to more general matters. Both Urion and Telaron appeared to have come to the table armed with a list of questions from their fellows and not the black looks of their lord or the blank stares of their hosts seemed to deter them. The most difficult moment was when the questions turned to the matter of dungeons, as he had feared that they might, for the idea seemed to fascinate all the party from Imaldris. At the current rate of offences they would be lucky to escape without a major estrangement between the two elven realms occurring before they left. Assuming they were allowed to leave and Legolas didn’t lock them in his father’s famous dungeons!

Elrond found himself wishing for Glorfindel, left behind to take care of Imladris in his absence


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was with some relief that Elrond left the dining hall and returned to his own rooms. There had been no angry words but their hosts’ demeanour had become progressively colder as the meal wound towards its close, in all honesty he could not blame them for his own people had strained the rules of hospitality more than a little. Where some of the absurd stories of the Woodland Realm, and particularly its king, had come from he could not guess, but he had been unable to stem the flow of questions in time to prevent the offence. If the kings healers had not requested his help for Thranduil’s sake he thought they might well have been thrown out into the night.

As it was he had agreed to meet with the Council after he had examined the king again on the following day, saying nothing for he moment of his speculations. However he doubted that Legolas would wait so long and expected him to visit before the night was much older.

In anticipation of this visit he stripped off his formal robes and donned something more comfortable and then settled himself in a chair with a book, but he soon found that his attention was a long way from the letters on the page. There could be no doubting the difficult nature of the conversation to come, he knew that he must tell the prince of his assessment of his father’s condition yet his heart quailed before the thought of doing so. The book fell unreguarded into his lap as he tried to think of anything, any sign that his fears might be unfounded, but he could not. Everything he knew told him he was right, that what he feared was what was, that there was no other answer. Time and time again he followed the same loop of thought and the outcome was always the same.

How long he sat he was not sure but eventually he heard the knock upon the door that he had been waiting for. He rose and opened it finding as he had expected that Legolas was seeking admittance. With a smile Elrond bade him enter and closed the door on prying ears. What was to be said was not to be heard by others if it could be avoided. 

He waived Legolas tot he seat beside his own and settled himself in his chair once more, putting his book aside. His visitor wasted no time in coming to the point.  
“You have seen my father, and so have I. It is clear that he is in desperate straits and I think you have some view on what the cause might be. I must ask what you believe to be the case. I know that tomorrow you will visit him again and give your formal verdict on the matter but I cannot wait and I would wish to be prepared for what is to come now rather than learn it in the company of others. For I do not think there is any joy to be expected”  
Elrond inclined his head.  
“Yes, I understand that and I had not expected anything else. Indeed I would share my thoughts with you in private and would have sought you out had you not come to me.”  
“The news is as I fear then, nothing good?”  
“No I suspect that there is nothing better than what you fear to say.”  
Legolas sank his head into his hands for a moment and when he looked up there was despair in his eyes.  
“Can you do anything to help my father?”  
Elrond sighed and shook his head sadly.  
“Little, much to ny regret. I might perhaps find other ways to ease his pain, as for the rest well until he wakes and I can see how much he is aware of his danger there is little I can do. As for curing the ill, countering the poison, there I can do nothing at all.”  
“He is in pain then?”  
“Yes and I fear the pain will be great and hard to overcome by usual means. Your healers have done all that can be done without risking greater ill, I might be able to increase his ease a little but nothing more than that.”

Legolas looked at him with fear in his eyes.  
“You speak as if this poison is something new and terrible, tell me that I am wrong in my fear I beg of you.”  
Elrond shook his head again, his expression sombre.  
“I cannot, your fears are justified, for the peril your father faces is great.”  
“He will die then?”  
“Eventually I fear he will; that or something worse.”  
“Worse what could be worse than my father dies!”  
“Perhaps that he remains trapped in his anguish for ever, for if what I fear proves true then there will come a time when even sailing west might not save him. But you are wrong on one count. If I am right in my suspicion then the poison is not new and terrible but old and very terrible. So old I have only read of it but the once and that in a tome that few know of much less have ever seen.”  
“Old? You speak as if it is of another age, surely that cannot be so!”  
“I believe that it is. The book I mention was written in the time of the War of Wrath and details matters relating to the fight against Morgoth.”  
“The War of Wrath? How could what afflicts my father have anything to do with that fight? Our people had no part in it.”  
“That is true but the war itself is not the cause, rather something that was discovered when the fortress of Angmar was destroyed. I, and your father’s healer too, believe the poison given to your father is a form of Angmar's Bane.”

Legolas frowned.  
“I know of Angmar of course, but as I have said we had no part in its destruction and I do not recall ever hearing of such a Bane.”  
“Elrond sighed sadly.  
“You would not have done so for it was believed that all of it was destroyed and with it the materials and knowledge required to make it. All traces of it were to have been removed from the world, so terrible was it.”  
“My Lord I beg of you to speak plainly, hints and suggestions will not help me understand, nor provide some hope for my father. Tell me simply what is Angmar’s Bane?”  
Elrond looked at his companion for a moment as if debating something within him, an expression of deep sadness settling upon his face.  
“Some say that it was used in the creation of Orc.”

There was a long moment of silence then Legolas said softly.  
“What, that cannot be. Tell me it cannot be.”  
Elrond smiled slightly.  
“Now you understand why your healer wanted my help, for she suspected this but did not think that it could be possible. Once long ago she came across a work similar to the one in my possession and there she read of the fortress of Angmar and the things that were found and taken at its destruction.  
His companion looked at him in dumbstruck horror and Elrond sat back in his chair his eyes going down to the rings upon his hand.  
“Many terrible things were found when the last fortress of Morgoth was destroyed after the dragons were defeated and the dark one was chained. Much was never known beyond the army of the Valinor and the knowledge was taken out of the world to a safer place. But you will know that many slaves were freed from the pits of all the fortresses of the dark and that much evil was done to many.”  
Legolas nodded.  
“Of course, all know that, and elves of all the free people do not forget it. But you spoke of the creation of orc, tell me more of your meaning for my thoughts reel with the horror of it and I would know now how much of my trepidation can be set aside and how much is justified.”  
Elrond’s eyes remained locked upon his hand as he replied, choosing his words with obvious care.  
“You will have heard stories of how Morgoth sought to create the Orc in mockery of the Elves. Some believe that he succeeded and that the orc armies of that time are descended from the slaves, from dark elves captured and put to torment until in their madness they could be shaped as the dark one wished. But not all believe this to be the case, other stories say that captured elves were tormented so that Morgoth might find ways to recreate aspects of elvish nature that were useful to him without those elements that were undesired by him. The ancient books that I have referred to list both possibilities amongst their record of all things found at Angmar. Which of the two the writer believed to be case, if either of them, is not clear, but both books make reference to the use of a potion that was used and suggest that the torment referred to is the use of this poison rather than any other means.”

Legolas struggled to speak so great was the fear that now gripped him.  
“What was its purpose?”  
Elrond drew a deep breath and looked away towards the fire.  
“Elves are connected to the world around them, their life force and their fea is part of the greater light of all created by the One. To create Orc Morgoth strove to create elf like creatures but without that connection, beings that had no link to the wider creation, that were connected to nothing else at all. In pursuit of understanding how this might be done the writers say that Morgoth took elves and strove to break their connection to the One and creation, to rip away that part of them that held their life force and fed their fea. By doing so he sought to drive out their light and starve their fea into submission, or perhaps to pervert it so making them malleable to his will. To make them not elves any longer while keeping their immortality and their endurance. This was the torment spoken of, not only the pain of the driving out of their light, which was very great, but the hopeless despair when they found themselves cut adrift from all that they were and all they had loved. That separation of the elf from their elvish nature was the purpose of Angmar’s Bane.”  
“And in the end, how long could they endure in such a torment?”  
“Not long I think. In the end their fea would flee leaving the body an empty husk, it may be from this that the legend that Orc were corrupted elves was born.” 

Legolas was silent for a moment, all colour draining from his face as the enormity of what he had just been told sank in.  
Finally he swallowed hard and spoke, his voice strained and his eyes blank with the shock of it.  
“And you believe that someone is doing this to my father and using the same evil poison that Morgoth used? Is that what you believe is happening to him, that his light is being ripped away and his elvish nature is being denied to him?”  
Elrond looked back towards him with sorrow and pain in his face.  
“I believe that is what was intended and is being attempted.”  
“Attempted? Then it is not succeeding?”  
“Not, I think, to the degree the attacker intended.”  
“Yet you are sure it is this Bane?”  
“Yes, the golden threads upon his skin betray it; they are the manifestation of the attempt to remove from him the light of the Eldar and his connection to the world. The potion, for it is not a poison in the usual sense, seeds the body with small tendrils that absorb the elf light and, when they are fully fed, they work their way through the skin and the light is shed. In the witch king’s prison the tendrils would have been harvested, for Morgoth in his evil vanity dearly wanted to create a light similar to that of the Eldar, but always failed.”

Legolas was silent for a moment the despair written clear upon his face; then he leaned forward slightly as if to better read Elrond’s expression.  
“Yet you say in my father’s case things have not gone to plan?”  
“I think that is the case, that or the intention was to make him suffer the pain of Angmar’s Bane whilst knowing it could never complete its terrible work. I have seen the marks of the tendrils upon your father but they are thin and easily broken and seem not to have to strength to break free from his body. I think that it is possible that as they absorb his light so he finds a way of pulling some of it back from them, keeping them half starved and unable to compete their work.”  
“How would this be?”  
“I cannot be sure and need to think more upon the matter, but there are several possibilities, one is that the Bane was formed for, and so only truly effective upon, the dark elves of that time, and that for an elf lord of your father’s race and years of living absorbing his light and the breaking free is not so easy a matter. Even so I think that the potion was quite possibly not the true Bane but some weaker form, imperfect perhaps. It also seems likely that the amount given was small. All of these things together have prevented your father’s death and, so far as can be judged, have also prevented his loss of himself. Yet he cannot recover without help and your healer is of the view that the poison is still being administered, with which I agree.”  
“But what can we do? You say that he suffers, that eventually he will die. What can we do to help him?”  
”Little I fear, unless we can discover how it is being administered. If we can prevent any more of the evil stuff being given then we may ease his suffering and help him towards recovery in time. But I fear that more than that will be needed if he is to recover fully and our best hope must lie with Mithrandir who may know a way to undo the harm that has already been done.”

There was silence for a moment then Legolas sighed.  
“Does he know what is happening to him?” he asked softly.  
“That it is the Bane, I would say no, for it is unlikely that he will have read of it. That he is losing his connection with the nature of himself, that I would say he knows. From what I have been told he understands enough of his situation to have great fear. Nor should you underestimate the physical pain he feels, it will be great and unremitting.”  
“What can I do for him? I would make my peace with him yet I would not heap further trouble upon him, what should I say or do that might be of comfort to him?”  
“I doubt he holds any grievance against you great though your sins were, he is your father and he loves you. By your presence he will know your regret. Take up the duties that must fall to you at such a time and do what you can to rebuild your peoples regard for you. For the rest there is little you can do but sit with him when you can, speak of times gone by or memory you share so that he may hear your voice. Let him know you are at his side and will do all within your power to find the guilty party and bring them before your people. He would ask no more of you than that.”  
“Is there any chance that we might find them? For I am sure there has been no lack of effort this far and nothing has been managed”  
“If we can determine if it is still being administered and if so how then it will provide us with clues as to how it might have been achieved in the first place. That must give us some insight into who might have been involved.”  
Elrond seemed to think for a moment then he leaned forward and placed his hand upon the others arm.  
“You must think hard Legolas. Whoever is behind this plot holds much malice against your father, perhaps against all elves, for they seek to steal his very elf nature from him and make him less than he is. Who would wish to do this and why? In the why we might find a route to the how.” 

He sat back a frown appearing between his brows. He spoke slowly as if thinking out the matter even as he formed the words.  
“Having seen your father’s ills I am now more of the mind that your own strange behaviour might indeed be a part of the same plot, for there are similarities that cannot be ignored. If we can discover what lies behind your father’s danger we might also understand your own crimes and find you some peace.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Legolas had found no rest that night and long before dawn's light banished the stars he had bathed, dressed and wandered to his father’s study beside the Woodland Realm's archives, there he lit the lamps and braziers and set to work going through all those personal papers that the Council might not see. If there was any private vendetta against the king then there might be some indication of it here. 

It was not often he had been in this room for it was neither state room, council room nor a family room being his father domain alone. As a child he had hated the sight of his father walking towards the carved doors to this room for he had know that it would be many a long while before he would return from whatever was behind them. When he assumed his role as crown prince he had been summoned here on a few occasions but for the most part this was a room where only his father, his butler and the senior Lords of the Council ever ventured.

The room itself was comfortable enough, large and airy with natural light reflected from somewhere by the polished quartz that lined a part of the ceiling and one wall. The edges of the walls were lined with white gems that further brightened the light within the room during daylight hours. The floor was buffed stone covered with woven rugs in wool and silk, the greens and browns and blues spanning all the hues from vibrant to muted, the pile soft enough to be walked upon barefoot. Tapestries and paintings lined the walls that were in many places clothed in panels of carved wood, and on one wall hung a large polished mirror angled to catch the light of the moon and scatter it across the quartz. Only on a moonless night was this room ever truly without some natural light. A number of tree roots stretching down from the hills above stood as pillars that divided the space around which were arranged braziers filled with fragrant woods and herbs. The light from the braziers, when lit, further illuminated the area around his father couch and desk and more light came from lamps hung from hooks and the tendrils of the root pillars. But there were still many shadows, another reason he had feared this room when very young but now he could see they were filled by shelves on which rested piles of parchment and scrolls interspersed with stack of books and wooden boxes the contents of which he could only guess.

In the place where the light was brightest was a couch, long and deep and with high padded back and scattered with cushions, the feet of the couch carved like roots gave it an air of something growing rather then something placed there. His father’s desk was large but plain without decoration of any kind; the chair however was more ornate, its spreading back carved like the branches of a great beech the deep wide seat covered with green silk that had the look of a grassy bank. Legolas had often suspected that his father preferred this chair to the Greenwood throne for all its long history, for when he entertained those he knew it was from this chair he would greet them. Legolas smiled as he ran a finger over the intakes of the its soaring back, higher even than the kings head when he sat, for he knew that more than one visitor had taken this chair, and its twin in the Council chamber, to be his father’s throne. Few outsiders ever saw the Greenwood throne these days, and those who did usually wished they had not. Like Thorin.

He pushed the thought away, the dwarf had brought his own doom with him and no elf had had a hand in his death, nor had any wished it for all his bile and rancour. But then the dwarf had not brought the armies of Gundebad down upon them by intent, though Legolas wondered what had been in the wizards mind when he set Oakenshield upon his course. But that was not any speculation for now, not when his father life hung in so painful a balance. Pushing the thought away he moved the high back chair to the side of the desk for he could not bring himself to sit in it, instead he crossed the room and pulled a plainer version from the shadows and set it before the desk. Then he lit the lamp on either side and set to work sorting the papers before him.

XXXX

Barely an hour had passed before he sat back in the chair staring at the flickering flame of a lamp with a frown, cursing himself for an ignorant fool, suddenly aware of how much of his father’s life as king he had been shielded from. No doubt his father had thought his duties in the guard heavy enough to bear for there could be no other reason why they had never spoken much of wider matters, for it was clear that had been much to be spoken of. Now, well now there was no hiding from them. He had thought his father uninterested in the wider world and in that belief the past hour had proved him sadly wrong for the extent of his father’s correspondence was eloquent testimony to the kings awareness of that wider world, its event and their implications, He sighed and shook his head at his own blindness, lost in his own concerns it had seemed to him that his father played little part in the politics of the wider world and had any one asked his son would have sworn that the king of Mirkwood knew little of what went on beyond his borders. Yet the spread of letters now overflowing from his father’s desk told a different story. 

He picked up a letter close to his right hand and stared at it with narrowed eyes, how long had his father been exchanging letters with some un-named personage in Gondor? His gaze drifted to the one in his left hand, or to a tavern maid in Bree, what could she have to tell him other than a change in the price of ale? There were many like that, some long, some short, some informal and almost gossiping in tone, others formal and severe. A number he found hard to credit as the correspondence of a king and none of them contained anything that he might have thought his father concerned with. But more importantly and there was nothing that he could see that gave insight into who might have been behind events. 

He sighed and with a heavy heart turned his attention back to the letters and bills that were so neatly arranged.

How long he worked diligently through the stacks he could not say but there came a time when the lamps guttered and he rose to attend to them pushing aside the small but growing pile of letters at his right hand, for these were of particular interest to him. This pile already included a handful he suspected to be in code, several others where he doubted the name signed was that of the writer, and a number addressed to people other than his father. The pile on his left hand side include the draft replies to some of these, a few of which were written in his father flowing hand but the others were written in such a way that had he found them anywhere else he would have sworn they were composed by someone else. It was as if the world he had known, difficult and dangerous as it was, had been but a children’s story written by his father to hide the harsh reality of the king’s world. A world he might now have to master, 

But that too was for another time. Having attended to the lamps he returned to his sifting, the piles of interest growing as the night aged.

As dawn broke above the forest he sat back with a sigh and a heavy heart, for there was little enough that might provide a clue and the last few hours had shed a light on his fathers life and activity that both stunned and baffled him. He rose from his chair and poured himself a glass of wine from the flagon on the side table, frowning at the glass as he did so. These short hours had challenged much he had thought he knew of his sire and king. As he stared at brazier in the far corner, now burning low, he wondered how he had ever been so naïve as to think that any king could be as he had thought his father. He looked around the room, at the books and written music, even the paintings upon the walls and wondered how many of these also hide stories and messages that only a select few would be able to read. With a heavy heart he returned to the desk, taking both glass and flagon with him,

He looked down at yet another apparently meaningless scrawl and wondered what he father would have seen when he read it. Legolas frowned as he fingered the paper as he took another sip of wine. He had not known the dark and dangerous time of the second age and though his life had been that of a warrior almost since his coming of age the battles he fought were much smaller than those his father had known in that time. His battles were fierce and dangerous but they were of the moment and were not the battles of a king, his father however had been a king since he had seen his own father fall in battle and he had had to take a king’s view since that time. For his father the survival of his Realm and its people would always be the ultimate objective even if it meant being patient and circumspect where others might prefer he were not. Tauriel for one, and perhaps he might once have agreed with her, indeed he knew that he had, but having seen more of the world on his travels his view of matters was no longer so simple. Looking at the papers strewn around him he wondered how much further his views would change if he understood some small part of what was here.

A map held down by a lamp caught his eye and he sighed and pulled it closer towards him. It was a map of the southern forest much scrawled upon with symbols Legolas didn’t understand and many a red cross, but it was clear the focus of interest in the scrubbings, the dark tower. Over the dark tower his father had scrawled a symbol he did not understand but that sent a shiver through him all the same.

Legolas smoothed a crease in the parchment and sighed again. Dol Guldur for example, why had his father been so adamant that none should venture near that place? True it was a long way beyond their borders, some two hundred miles as the crow flew, and across the Mirkwood Mountains; a hard and bitter journey. Looking at this map it was clear that the journey would have been longer than that on foot for the roads and paths to the south of the forest were long since lost if the red crosses were to be judged by. It would have been months of travel on foot with only the supplies that could be carried and even exploring the land around the keep would require a party of many tens of well armed elves if it was to succeed. A host of considerable size would be required if it was to be taken or destroyed. Even an exploration with any hope of return would require enough elves to go south to leave some part of their land here in the north unguarded and even then it would increase the burdens on those remaining behind.

He looked at it again his finger tracing a line his father had drawn. Unless you travelled outside the forest along the river and approached the tower from the west, then you might take a smaller party in a shorter time. He sighed as he looked more closely, but that line would take you past the Gladden fields, a route that was marked here and heavily crossed through. Legolas could see why for there was no way of approaching unseen from such a path and anyone doing so would be at the mercy of what was lurking in the dark tower long before they were within bow range. No, if that had been possible then surely the elves at Lothlorien would have undertaken such a venture long ago? But then perhaps they had.

His eyes wandered over the litter of letters around him, how had his father known so much about the south forest, a place their people had left behind many centuries ago? Is that what these letters, at least some of them, were about. But from whom did they come for he had seen nothing that might explain it so far?

He sat back in the chair and sighed again, his eyes drifting once more to the symbols around the shape of the hill once known as Amon Lanc, a place his people had once loved before the darkness settled upon it. But what was it that had caused his father to set so firm a prohibition on the place? People spoke of the Necromancer being settled there, a terrible sorcerer it was true and he did not doubt the place was steeped in now evil for its past was notorious. Was that reason enough for his father to refusal to even discuss any expeditions south of the mountains? He peered more closely at the symbols scrawled upon the place, if only he could read them, for close scrutiny showed that it was not one symbol but several lay close together and in places overlaid. 

His eyes ranged across the map again noting that other annotations existed, some barely distinguishable from the lines of the map itself so faded were they. Many symbols clustered about the mountains and some of these were familiar, those indicating the presence of wild wolf or spider for example. But Legolas found himself wondering where this information had originated given that his father allowed no treks to the mountains either.

One mark drew his attention sending all thoughts of the letters around him flying from his mind. A faint line that was drawn in gold, with an arrow pointing away from Dol Guldur towards the Ash Mountains and the dreaded lands behind them. 

Golden threads Elrond had said threads that absorbed his father’s light, that drew a veil between him and the world and all that he loved. A veil of pain that could not be assuaged. Legolas remembered his father's face when he had threatened on behalf of Tauriel, he remembered the sorrow in his father's eyes as he had released him to his pointless travels, The tears that he had not shed before Elrond rose hot and desperate behind his eyes and he let them fall unchecked and in silence.

He was still sitting there in silent grief when Turonille found him.


	11. Chapter 11

The lady entered quietly and he had no idea how long she had been standing in the doorway before she spoke.  
“My Lord? I sought you in your quarters but the guards informed me you were here. I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you in your reverie but there are matters we must discuss.”  
Her voice was soft but the authority in it undeniable. Lady Turoneille was accustomed to being listened to and to being answered when she asked a question.  
He heard her close the door firmly behind her and felt his heart twist in his chest knowing that what she had to say might not be pleasant hearing. Drawing a deep breath and turned to meet, with more than a little trepidation, the near black eyes of the chief keeper of the law. 

With an effort he smiled at her as he replied.  
“Lady Turonille, it is no intrusion and you are welcome, though I hope you do not come to call me to trial. If you deem that there is need for that then I pray you will wait until my father is well again. Then I will gladly face whatever process you wish.”  
She came further into the room and brushed his comment away with a wave of her hand.  
“The law has already been satisfied in your absence my Lord Legolas, and there is no need to pursue you further for the matters that took place in Dale. It is to that I assume that you to refer.”  
He picked up the wine glass that stood close to his hand and took a sip. then inclined his head and willed her to say more for he did not wish to ask. As if reading the thought in his face she smiled and continued.  
“In time of battle many things happen that only those present may fully understand and for this reason at such times your father as the King and commander of our warriors may take upon himself the mantle of the law, did you not know that?”  
He had of course but since there had never in his lifetime been a battle requiring such actions he had not given it much thought.  
“Yes, I knew. But I do not think even in such extremis my father would set aside the law or the wishes of the people of our Realm.”

Her smile widened slightly.  
“Nor would he for he is a wise king. We chose well when we invited the line of Oropher to be our kings. Yet all the same he may make judgement as he will and is not required to lay it before the Council for them to allow or challenge, though it has always been his practice to do so as his father did before him. As indeed he did in this case.”  
Legolas stared at her bemused.  
“When did he make the judgement?”  
“The day after battle, before the dead King under the Mountain was buried. He laid the judgement out before the commanders of the Royal Guard who may stand for the Council in such cases.”  
“What was his verdict?”  
“That in both cases, both yours and hers, the nature of the time, and the effect of battle, should be allowed for as part of determining guilt and passing judgement.”  
She gave him a gentle smile though there was a hint of reproof in her voice.  
“In your case he argued that though you made no attempt to prevent her drawing the arrow upon him there was little that you could have done to foresee it or forestall it, and there was no time for you to remonstrate with her for he disarmed her swiftly. Your actions from that point, he said, were focussed on your mistaken belief that she was in some danger, but you made no attempt to engage him in combat, nor did you threaten his life. As such treason was too strong a charge for your actions. Folly, foolish, ill considered and unbecoming of your maturity and rank he decreed, a crime against your father but not against your king and so not treason was his verdict upon you. The punishment would have been a reduction in your military rank and some time away from the Realm in other lands in the service of your King. However as he had already dispatched you on such a duty your punishment was deemed to be enacted.”

Legolas frowned at her more than a little taken aback by her calm words and he struggled to keep the disbelief from his voice as he replied.  
“His Guard accepted that? That my crime was not treason? You surprise me, for they treat me with some suspicion, almost as if they consider me to be implicated in my father’s illness!”  
She nodded, but her own ambivalence in the matter was clear in her face for a moment.  
“They accepted it my Lord, even those who were present and saw events for themselves. So did the Council when the matter, and reasons for your father judgement, were laid before them upon his return. As for any suspicion you think you see in them, well be easy for there is none relating to treason against our Realm, you may be assured of that.” Her voice took on a warning note, “ but your father is much loved and the grief all feel for your sins against him as your parent have no relation to their judgement of your sins towards him as your King.”  
Her voice took on a harsh note and it was clear where her own feeling lay.  
“On that count they find you more than culpable and it has cost you much respect on the part of many.”

He looked at her in silence for a long moment then he gave a small sad smile and inclined his head.  
“No more than I have lost for myself my lady, you may be certain of that.”  
He hesitated a moment looking down into the wine in his glass and drew a deep breath.  
“What of the other offender? What was his judgement there? I trust to his kindness and wisdom but there can have been little that he could have done in that case.”  
Lady Turonille crossed to a chair set at the side of the room, seating herself in a billow of green formal robes with a sigh.  
“No, treason it was without a doubt as all who saw testified. Made all the more heinous by the cause and the relationship with the king she has enjoyed since her childhood. The view of the matter taken by all who saw it was most serious and there were none who were willing to speak on her part other than your father, and he was more generous than most others desired.”  
She gathered her thoughts in silence for a moment and when she spoke again it as if she picked her words with great care.  
“Though they accepted the defence of battle there were many would have wished to see her receive the most serious punishment that allowed. Yet the king chose to mitigate it further saying that he had bore some fault for he had raised her above her ability, not seeing the childish nature of her and that error had led to her rash and ill considered demands. He suggested that her act should be viewed not as a warrior’s might be for all her rank but in part as the tantrum of a child denied its will by a usually overindulgent parent.”  
She shook her head.  
“Only their love for him allowed them to accept such a plea, for most were very unwilling.”

Legolas swallowed on a suddenly tight throat.  
“What then was his judgement? What was her punishment?”  
“He could not change the judgement my lord, as I have said treason was seen to be done, and so treason was the verdict. As for her punishment, she is dismissed from the guard and banished from the Forest for an unspecified period of time. She may live in the lands between the forest and the River if she wishes, or the lands between the forest and the mountains. This banishment cannot be altered for a period of no less than five hundred years, at which time she may petition to return and the Council will make its judgement of her case. She may also depart for other lands if she so wishes and she will not be hampered or pursued.”  
He sighed and nodded knowing that there was little else his father could have done.  
“Where, then, has she gone?”  
“Not that far my Lord for her banishment does not stipulate the distance she must maintain from the forest, merely that she may not enter into it. I believe she is living in a small village between the forest edge and the river south of the road and close to the lake. The village is populated by river elves from the south and some men of the lake and very few of them know of her crimes, to them she is just a wandering elf with no family or standing within the forest and who has chosen to settle there.”  
Lady Turonnile concentrated on picking a dust mote from the pleated edge of her outer robe.  
“Elves have come up from the south at your father request to assist in the rebuilding of Laketown; she attracts no attention and you may be assured that she does not want for anything she needs. She may leave if she so wishes as I have said.”

“But she had no where to go,” he said softly, “No other elven land would welcome her, no more would the sons of men.”  
Turonnile looked at him with a serious face.  
“That is true my lord, if they knew of her past, for her crime would be terrible in other lands too. In elven lands….”  
She shrugged slightly and a sombre look settled on her face.  
“Though the word was not mentioned in your father’s addresses to his guard or to the Council, or indeed in any of the process of her conviction still it has been claimed in chatter, the most serious of charges is whispered everywhere that her name is mentioned.”  
“Kinslaying.” Legolas said softly.  
“Yes, though some think it harsh. Yet she did draw an arrow upon another elf in pursuit of her own desires and without provocation, and given her position as a guard we must assume she knew how to use it and intended to do so. In which case she intended your father’s death for her own purpose, the act was not in self defence, nor was it an act committed in simple anger during an argument but with the intention of some personal or political boon. In that light the charge would seem to apply.”  
Legolas shook his head and took a deep swallow of wine before replying.  
”Yet it did not seem so to me when I watched her do it. I confess the shadow of that terrible word never entered my mind.”  
The lady inclined her head.  
“No, and there are those who argue against it and say that it doesn’t fit the crime. Were I to be called to give judgement on the matter according to Lore and the justice of our people I think that I would be hard pressed to do it. Even so the charge hangs in the air and it will be a long time before it does not.”  
She gave a twisted smile.  
“But then is treason and attempted murder any less terrible?”

Legolas looked down into the wine again.  
“No, but if my father dies the strength of any of these charges will grow and there will be those who point the finger at her as being responsible for his demise.”  
He could hear the despair in his own voice.  
“Yet despite what happened in Dale I cannot believe that she would plot in such a manner and for such an end.”  
Lady Turonnile rose to her feet and moved towards the door.  
“That is already the case my lord, such whispers abound. However you may trust to your father’s foresight and wisdom, for when he first fell ill he sent agents into the village to watch her, knowing this would be so. If she is innocent then they will testify for her as readily as they will testify against her if there is just cause for suspicion.”

Legolas shook his head with a faint smile.  
“There is much about my father that it seems I do not know, or perhaps I have forgotten, for we were not always so estranged. “  
He indicated the desk beside him.  
“Tell me my lady how much of the correspondence here do you know of?”  
She turned away from the door and looked at him with a guarded expression.  
“In terms of generalities I know the nature of some of it my lord, but not all. In the matter of specifics I know very little, unless there is some matter that the Council is reviewing or if it raises some point of Lore or law. Why do you ask?”  
He shrugged sadly.  
“Only that I hoped for some guidance from what is here on how we might help him. I prayed I would find ij these papers some indication of who might wish my father harm and how they might have reached him, but I find I understand such a small part of it that I cannot judge.”

He picked up a letter close to his hand.  
“This a letter, for example, from someone I have never heard of who lives in the south lands beyond the end of the forest, towards the foothills of Imyn Muil by the descriptions it contains, an elf by the script. But why would an elf dwell there and why would they send messages to my father?”  
“I cannot say my Lord,” Turonnile’s voice w as suddenly washed of expression, “but there will be a reason. What does the letter speak of?”  
Legolas scanned it again.  
“It speaks of the nature of bats in the brown lands. Why would that interest my father?”  
There was a small silence then Lady Turonnile spoke softly..  
“You might wish to recall the nature of the last bats you saw in any number my lord, and then reflect on what lies beyond the brown lands.”  
Legolas was silent for a moment as he pondered her words and as the meaning came to him he felt a jolt of fear. Mordor!  
He looked at her wondering what he should ask next but she had already turned towards the desk and picked up another letter reading it swiftly and with a slight frown.  
“I thought that one to be in some form of code.” He said as he saw what she was holding.  
“Very likely,“ she nodded, “and that perhaps leads us to the discussion we must have.”

There was a pause, whatever the discussion was she seemed unwilling to begin it.  
Legolas just gazed at her steadily and waited for her to continue. Eventually she, did slowly and with a sense of weighty matters hanging on each word.  
“There are things that must be done, some that cannot be delayed any further than they already have been; where it might be…. dangerous were they to be further delayed. Such matters require the attention of the King’s regent until the King is again well enough to act. If it is possible the Council would prefer that as few others as possible know of the King’s indisposition and certainly none in the lands of the south or east. Your father is known to be a strong king and not one to be easily fooled and were it to become wider knowledge that he was incapacitated there are those who might seek to…. take advantage of the fact.”  
He bowed his head in agreement.  
“I understand.”  
“I wonder if you do my lord, you know much of the spreading shadow from Dol Guldur and have fought valiantly against it, but I wonder how much of the wider dangers of the world you understand.”  
He smiled slightly.  
“As do I,” he looked at the paper strewn desk and shook his head, “certainly I know more than I did just yesterday.”  
She nodded.  
“There are things that others can deal with, and have been doing so. But there are none on the council who wish to stand in your fathers place more formally, that, all agree, is your responsibility.”  
He stared at her in silence for a long moment then sighed.  
“Even after all that happened?”  
“Perhaps more so because of what happened. Your judgement was quick and unwise, you gave little thought to the full consequences of the matter; perhaps it is time that you learned that the world is not so simple and that the best course of action in a situation is not always the easiest to see, nor in the end is it always the one that at that moment seems most obviously right.”

For a moment he stared at her, her unease was obvious despite her many centuries weighing difficult matters. He could not avoid the thought that she was doing this out of dire necessity and against her better judgement. Finally it was clear she would not speak again until he replied and so he gave her a look of doubt as he did so.  
“You would trust me then? Given that you tell me my judgement is so obviously lacking?”  
She sighed.  
“I will not lie to you my Lord I would prefer another way but there is not one that all can agree on and I console myself with the knowledge that you will not be alone, all will help. But the times remain dangerous even though the shadow retreats in the south, and the Council consider that it would ease the people’s disquiet if they could see you representing your father during this time of difficulty. It is seen as important that a formal Regent is not appointed for that would disclose too much, but in your case there would be no need for such an appointment.”

He looked around the room understanding perhaps for the first time the shadows that were always at his father’s shoulder, the great evil he knew of but perhaps there were lesser evils that he did not. Perhaps the great and the lesser evils were all part of the same shadow in the end. His father would know well the twisting paths that must be walked and the world of half truths and smiling liars that must be negotiated, a dance with danger and darkness of which his son knew nothing. He looked down at the letters strewn across his father desk, these last hours had opened a door whose presence he had never given though to. Perhaps for the first time he understood the power if what was not said as well as what was. Words could exact a high price if unwisely used, and careless promises however well meant could end in ruin and death.  
“Yes,” he sighed, “I see. Very well.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dawn had just claimed the sky above the trees when Legolas left his father’s rooms and returned to his own. Once there he stripped off his clothes and washed before dressing himself again, not in armour but in the robes of a prince about the join the Council. It would be some hours yet before that Council met but he would use the time in thought and perhaps some prayer for he could not deny that his father needed better help than he could offer.

As it was he had no time to do either for he had barely shrugged on his outer robe when there was a knock upon his door and a soft voice called his name. He recognised the voice as that of the chief healer and his heart seemed to freeze, for he doubted she could be here for any thing of good. Swallowing down his fear and schooling his face to calm composure he opened the door and bade her enter.

“You have news of my father?” he asked quickly.  
She smiled slightly and, seeing past his careful calm, she placed a hand upon his arm.  
“Only that he has wakened my lord, other than that nothing seems changed.”  
Legolas fought down the desire to shout and instead swallowed hard before he replied.  
“But he seems no worse?”  
She sighed and her hand fell away.  
“Worse my lord? I no longer know how to answer that question. Now that I know Lord Elrond agrees with my diagnosis, that there is not something less terrible that I have missed, there seems to be little but worse to expect.”  
She saw the stricken look on Legolas’s face and seemed to regret her frankness, smiling she placed a hand upon his arm again.  
“But no worse is apparent this day. He has woken, for the potion I gave to him is now spent, and though the pain is as great as ever he says it is no worse. The golden marks upon his skin seem to have retreated a little, but they sometimes do after rest. If it goes as before they will advance again and his pain will worsen as they do so. “

He drew a deep breath.  
“May I see him?”  
“Yes when my healers have done all for him that is needed.”  
She noted his dress and squeezed the arm she still grasped.  
“But sooner rather than later I would advise you. For the moment he is aware of those around him and of who he is, and his thoughts seem clear and untouched by the poison, but that may change as the hours pass, sometimes it does and then… “Her words tailed away.  
Legolas felt a stab of dread and turning his arm he gripped her hand with his own  
“What then? I must know the worst of it; I do not think it can be darker than my imaginings.”  
She smiled at him sadly knowing only too well the truth of that. Then she drew a deep breath, the pressure of her fingers on his increasing as if to bolster him against what she had to say.  
“He may lose himself for a while. Usually his awareness is most uncertain when the golden marks are advancing.”  
He nodded slowly.  
“When whatever it is makes the greatest effort to drive his elven light from him.” He pulled free of her hand and turned away from her as he spoke. She made no attempt to hold on to him or to deny the truth of what he had said.  
“Yes my Lord, that seems to be how it is. As the evil resumes its attack upon his elven light that is when he is at most danger of forgetting himself.”

He crossed the room and stared out at the trees beyond the hill that sheltered his father’s halls, the fear and horror was clear to read in his face but his voice was firm as he pressed her for more details.  
“In those time what happens? Tell me for I must know if I am to have any hope of finding the cause of this.”  
He heard her sigh and when she replied her words came slowly and her tone was sad.  
“Then he forgets who he is and why he is where he is. He may smile and plead for answers or he may rant and abuse those around him, hurling cold and harsh words at any who come near. His anger at such moments can make him seem almost like another person my lord not you father, our king, at all; you must be ready to face that.”  
She sighed as she saw him hang his head and pass a hand quickly across his eyes. She moved closer to him before continuing.  
“But even in those dark periods there will be lucid moments when he knows what is being done to him. Then there is fear but also determination that they shall not win, in that mood he sees it as battle and he will fight against it, even when exhausted and in agony, as he soon is. “

Her hand gripped his shoulder.  
“Your father is warrior and a king my lord, he will not allow this thing to defeat him if any effort of his can prevent it. But I cannot explain to you how great his suffering is at such times, and yet he will not seek rest easily. This is usually when I seek to make him sleep for though he can fight against the poison to some degree, or so it seems, the cost to him is very great. But he fears sleep my lord he knows that while he rests the evil is at work, he has come to believe that it will be as he sleeps that it will win, and so he will not rest unless he has no choice. So he bears the pain and fear to keep his mind clear for as long as he may. I will not hide from you that my fear is he is mistaken in this and that it is in so weakened a state he will lose the battle when a little rest would allow him to continue to fight.”  
She sighed again.  
“There are times when the choice must be made for him. I have made that choice so far but it is a great burden, one that I hope you and Lord Elrond may now share.”

Legolas did not turn towards her but his hand came up to grip hers again.  
“Does he know what you do?” Legolas asked softly.  
“Oh yes my lord, your father is no fool. But as long as the sleep has not cost him the battle he forgives me, only to fight me again when next he is exhausted. Perhaps now that you are returned he will be more willing to listen to my counsel and take the rest willingly.”  
He nodded his understanding.  
“My father will not give in easily, of that I am sure whatever suffering it costs him. Has Lord Elrond anything more that might help?” he asked turning back to face her.  
She shrugged.  
“Perhaps. He has potions that will ease the pain more powerfully he says, things he would not normally wish to use but that in this case he thinks might be worth the risks. As for stopping the evil that attempts to deprive your father of his light, I fear that there he does not think he can help. If he acts to strengthen your father’s light then we risk feeding the poison and making it stronger and harder to defeat.”  
He sighed.  
“I see, so unless we can find out how and who there seems to be little that we can do but ease his pain until…..”  
“Yes my lord. But both Lord Elrond and I have talked much on this and we both believe that your father is strong and that the potion administered was not powerful enough to complete its work. We believe that some is still being administered and if we can find out how and stop it then we still have a chance to save him, or at least to give him a chance to save himself.”

Legolas nodded.  
“Yes, Elrond told me as much. So it seems the sooner we can speak with him the better. How soon will it be possible?”  
“Not long, I would ask an hour more for my healers to see to his needs and make him comfortable again, any movement is a torture to him and it takes him a little time to regain his strength. Food too is a challenge and so I would ask that you do delay too long for I would have him eat something this day before he must rest again.”  
“Very well. I will come in an hour and delay the Council until after the noon. I would speak with Elrond again anyway. Do you know where he is?”  
“In his rooms I believe my lord; he broke his fast early and was heard to say he was returning to his books.”  
“Very well I will seek him there. If you will send for us when the time seems right to you,”

XXX

Legolas approached Elrond’s chamber with a sense of reaching for his last hope, and his knock upon the door was loud and impatient and he barely waited for the ‘Come’ before he started to turn the handle. 

Elrond was seated before a lamp with his head propped in his hand and with his eyes fixed on the tome before him. It was a second or two before he looked up and gave Legolas a faint smile.  
“I assume you have heard the news of your father, he is awake.”  
“So I have been told. The healers have asked for an hour to prepare him then bid us come as quickly as we can. I have sent a message to the Council that we will speak with them after we have done so and have some chance to reflect further upon what we have found.”  
He drew a deep breath.  
“I hope that you are willing to attend the meeting with me. I understand that I do not have your full confidence and why that is the case, but for the sake of my father’s realm I would ask that you assist me in the explaining the matter for I doubt I could do it as well as you. Though they must fear the worst I doubt if any yet comprehend the nature of the worst that awaits us.”

Elrond sighed and nodded.  
“Who would? I have seen much evil and yet I could not accept the depths of the malice until I saw it for myself. Even now I struggle to understand it, for your father is a good and wise king, an elf lord of honour and compassion, who would wish a doom so truly perverted upon him, and for what gain?”  
Legolas looked up into the shadows.  
“Yet there must be gain, if only in a bitterness or hatred given rein.” He replied wearily.  
Elrond sat back in his chair his finger stroking the page of the ancient book before him.  
“Oh yes there must be a gain in it to someone, and as you say it may be nothing more than hatred indulged.”  
He shot the prince a thoughtful look.  
“I am more of a mind to think that sorcery of some kind is behind this whole business than perhaps I was at Imladris, for there is a hint of something strange as well as dark about these deeds.” He touched the book with a long forefinger, the golden ring upon it glinting in the lamplight. “To know that something from the ancient past, something twisted and profane has been brought again into the world disturbs me. The Witchking has been gone for more than an age, that the shadow of him should be revived in this manner speaks of a desire for revenge and destruction that chills me.”

Legolas dropped his eyes to meet Elrond's grey gaze and his voice was harsh.  
“But revenge for what? I can think of nothing that my father has done that could earn such hatred from any other than the servants of the dark lord. But Sauron is fled for the moment and none of those who serve him could draw near to my father unseen, even if they had the skill to wield the weapon.”  
Elrond nodded.  
“No I agree, and so necromancy of some other form, one we have not encountered before, seems most likely. As for what your father has done. Well given the nature of the evil before us it may be that he has done nothing at all, it is simply for what he is that they hate.”  
He paused a moment as if unsure how to continue and Legolas, catching his hesitation, smiled wearily.  
“Do not fear to ask what you will, I will answer and take no offence whatever the question. I have forfeited the right to be above suspicion or to be treated gently in the matter.”  
“If necromancy is indeed involved then no fault is likely to lie with you.” Elrond said quietly. “What you did not expect you cannot be armed against. But you must be willing to face that someone wishes your father harm and that person may be dear to you.”

That brought a twisted smile to Legolas’s face.  
“Tauriel. I know, for whom else might it be? Hs guard? Unlikely for they have been with him through many battles and love him as a brother even though he is their king. One of our people? No more likely, for as you say he is a good, nay a great, king and all say it. A stranger then? None would have got close enough. The list of suspects is small and yet even if it is she I cannot see the how.”  
Elrond sighed.  
“Nor I but of all those who are possible she is the most likely,”  
Legolas rubbed his eyes.  
“Forgive me you are right, but I still find it difficult to accept that she, indeed that any one of those close to my father, is to blame.”  
“That I understand, but caution must be your watchword until the matter is resolved, and there are things you told me about her that cause me much concern. But that is not for now, for there are questions that only your father can answer that may shift suspicion away from her and to others. I would have such answers as he has before we discuss this further.  
“The let us hope he has some, though I am sure if he knew of the cause he would have said so.”

Elrond rose and closed the book, coming across the room to grip the other elf’s shoulder in sympathy and reassurance.  
“Perhaps, but once he knows what is involved and that evil magic of some form may be involved then things that he had given no thought to he may see in a different light.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hate Mary Sues but never comment on them, or author insertions come to that, as there is no way of doing so constructively that I have ever discovered and fan authors need to be cut some slack as they do it for fun.
> 
> Then I get handed a legitimate prey - so a hunting we will go.


End file.
